


Keep Me Coming Back For More

by JackTrades



Series: Married Destiel verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Dean/Cas Big Bang, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackTrades/pseuds/JackTrades
Summary: Dean Winchester always considered himself the no-strings-attached guy. He wanted to be the long walks, watch the sunset, make love by the fire guy... eventually... but not until he had his life together. The last thing he expected was to accidentally end up infatuated with his sometimes straight-laced, sometimes careless bad influence roommate/best friend.“Treat yourself!” “Just indulge!” “... I would if you wanted it…” Dean should have known by now that Castiel Novak would always flip between being his anchor and the tornado that shook things up in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dean/Cas Big Bang 2017. Art for this work is by [dmsilvisart](https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com/) and can be seen [here](https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com/post/166786420383/art-masterpost). (Art will also be embedded here when I get a stable connection and a full size screen to work with.)
> 
> Major thanks to [FaeGentry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeGentry/pseuds/FaeGentry) and [beezie687](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beezie687/pseuds/beezie687) for beta-ing!

Dean was on his own for the first time in his entire life. His younger brother, Sam, was clearly living it up in California. The kid even talked about staying there for law school. Their Dad had finally relocated, at Dean's insistence, closer to Sam and Dean’s half brother that no one knew existed until six years earlier. Dean told his father he'd stay through the end of the lease of their place and then figure it out from there.

Dean was just restless, being back in Lawrence all by himself. He didn't handle it well. After three long months alone, he packed his vintage Chevy Impala with all his earthly possessions, impulsively picked a nearby motel, and combed the newspaper for housing leads.

Luckily for him Bobby Singer, an old family friend, owned a garage just outside of town and was able to employ him part time. At least Dean’s stint in vocational school was good for something. Bobby didn't have the work to bring Dean on full-time yet. He encouraged Dean to think about enrolling in college there that was what gave Dean the bright idea to look for roommates near the campus. Spring semester had concluded, and surely there weren't that many students that stayed through the summer.

After two months of searching, Dean’s funds started to get low. Nothing was affordable in the summer and moving to a town with a college in September meant that most housing opportunities in September were taken by kids whose parents were footing the bill. Now that it was August, what remained left a lot to be desired. Every single person he met with as a potential roommate or landlord had some screw loose.

He was sulking at the bar with Bobby when Ellen, the regular bartender and owner of the place, offered a sympathetic ear and a refill. “Hey Ash,” she shouted across the bar, “didn't you say that the house across from you just had a room open up?”

Ash always smelled like he'd been hotboxing for sixteen hours straight but was otherwise a cool dude. They had become close as Dean found himself making this place his regular bar. Ash wandered over, “Yeah. Meg and Cas’ roommate got a job offer in Texas or something.”

Dean perked up, “Are they looking for a new roommate?”

Ash shrugged, “I can ask.” He pulled his clunky cell phone out of his pocket and started typing a text message. “I'm texting him now. Standby, amigo. He's usually pretty quick to respond.”

“Him? I thought that ‘Cass’ was a girl's name,” Dean thought out loud.

Ellen yelled over to Ash while she was cleaning glasses, “Get him to come out to the bar! I haven't seen him in months.”

Ash received a quick response and called him, “Hey Castiel, Ellen said to come out to the Roadhouse… My boy, Dean is looking for a place… Yeah… Oh, he's good people! Later!” He ended the call and told Dean, “Him and Meg will be here in a half hour.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Which means two hours.”

Ash laughed, “Nah, Castiel told her to get in the car as he was hanging up.”

Bobby finished his beer, “They're not idjits, are they?” Legitimate question from Bobby because he rarely came out here. He'd typically go drink on his couch.

Ash replied, “They're both really smart. I forget what they do.” Dean snickered because he knew that didn't answer Bobby’s question.

Bobby paid his tab and wished Dean luck. About twenty minutes later, Ash was waving two people over and introducing them. In Dean’s estimation, they’d looked they just finished screwing. At least Castiel did, mostly because his hair was wild and all over the place 

Meg spoke first, extending a hand out to Dean, “I'm Meg. He's Castiel.” She had an extra husky emphasis on his name. Yep, they were definitely screwing each other. She wore jeans and a loose shirt under a leather jacket.

“Dean.” He shook her hand. When she stepped aside, Dean got a better look at the guy: jeans, tee shirt, and a mostly-zipped hoodie with Converse sneakers. The guy had a weird intensity in his eyes, but not like he was sizing Dean up. Maybe he was figuring out what Dean's deal was. 

Castiel got right down to business, “So Ash said you need a place to live. He is vouching that you aren't some deadbeat or unemployed college student.” Jesus, he had a really deep voice.

Meg smacked his arm, “Let the guy get to know us a little bit! Maybe he'll be running for the hills after getting to know how anal you are.” She turned to Dean; “He gets right to the point on stuff.”

After some initial awkward small talk, Dean actually liked them. He agreed to check the place out and followed them to the house about twenty minutes away. Castiel quoted him a decent rent price and said he would have a rental agreement ready the next day. Dean moved in that weekend. (Apparently the landlord didn't care who moved in because Castiel’s name was the only one on the lease to start with.)

Meg and Castiel, as it turned out, weren't a couple - just occasionally friends with benefits according to both of them - they would have sex every once in awhile out of boredom. They had been in the middle of fooling around when Ash called. Whatever. That was none of Dean's business.

* * *

Three months, in Dean knew one thing for sure: his roommates were crazy. Like, certifiable even. The fact that Meg was in grad school to be a therapist was a fucking ironic joke. Castiel was a workaholic and studying for a certification his job wanted him to get, while balancing his own grad schoolwork. The shit didn't seem worth it to Dean.

The three of them had a fun game they'd play, where they would see who could hook up with the most people in a month. Winner would get out of paying their portion of the utilities that month. Living near a college campus certainly had perks. Castiel had lost every time because of his schedule, but Meg assured Dean that Castiel would make a comeback out of nowhere.

He learned that Meg met Castiel when she was undergrad, through a childhood friend, who was in classes with Castiel and introduced them at a party when Meg visited. Meg came from a family with divorced parents and actively avoided them if she could. She had seemingly zero interest in anything resembling a commitment, save for her living situation. Dean figured maybe if his mom had not died when he was four years old, he'd probably have a life resembling hers.

Meg spent a decent amount of time getting Dean liquored up then prying details about Dean's life from him. Dean generally kept his responses brief and glossed over a lot of it. He slipped once and mentioned that he’d had a couple brushes with foster care and child services. After that, she was unstoppable. She wouldn't ask how he felt about it; if she had asked, Dean would have moved out immediately. Those brushes with the system, and all the ‘well meaning’ people in it, messed up his life a lot with their leading questions about his feelings then twisting his words. Thankfully, she tended to limit these times to when Castiel wasn't home. He was getting really sick of her shit but he could otherwise tolerate her. It helped that she gave him an offer for meaningless sex like she does with Castiel. Dean hadn't taken her up on that yet. He didn’t want to be locked into a lease for another eight months and have something messy like that going on.

Castiel was a different story. Dean didn’t know what to make of him. He liked the guy, but he was just strange - not axe-murder strange, just peculiar enough that Dean was always wondering how he could relate to him. He would join Dean for activities like grocery shopping and bars when Dean asked him to, but he refused to be a party to Dean's pool or darts hustling. Dean would claim it was for fun when they both knew it was because Dean needed the funds for his bills. It was like they came from different worlds. Luckily, they had common ground in being ball-busters.

Castiel would deny it up and down but his family was wealthy. Not just wealthy: boarding school, Princeton legacy, summer homes, trust fund kind of wealthy. It explained a lot about why the guy was so particular about everything, even as he tried to pass for average and unassuming. Apparently just before he went to school for his MBA, he took an internship doing logistics for some company whose name Dean kept forgetting. Castiel chose to keep working there instead of working in his family’s financial business. Both of his parents were gone but he had cousins that he apparently had mixed feelings about. He got headhunted to move to his current employer with the offer of a seemingly awesome benefits package. He was always offering to float Dean cash to make rent, but Dean always managed to hustle and made everything square by the first of the month.

Meanwhile, Dean was working two or three jobs at a time, all the jobs were “charming” enough to keep him on the books thirty hours or less a week so they didn't have to give him benefits. Bobby didn't have insurance for himself, much less his handful of employees. He had assured Dean that Rufus was retiring at the end of next year and he would bring Dean on full time after that - sooner if business picked up or anyone else left. He kept a jar by his bed that was going to be full of cash to buy Sam a plane ticket to visit. Sam planned on borrowing a car from a classmate and driving to Dean for the holidays this year.

The roommates learned that Dean really liked cooking a lot, and that he was glad to make enough for everyone three nights a week in exchange for weaseling out of splitting the cable bill three ways. Why the hell did they have four different premium channel subscriptions anyway?

* * *

Dean was hanging with Ash and Garth at the Roadhouse when he felt his phone vibrating away in his pocket. He flipped it open and groaned, because the roommates were group text messaging him again. They either kept forgetting or just didn’t care that Dean didn't have a smartphone. Fuckers were killing his data plan. He opened the messages and downloaded in the order that they came in. Castiel, apparently, really needed a blowjob tonight but was stuck working late. Meg responded that she had class until late and had to be at work early the next day. She added a second response, _‘Ask Dean_.’

Castiel replied, ‘ _Dean - you in_?’

Dean had to just stare blankly at his phone. They were all kind of slutty, so he couldn't even get mad about it. He thought it over and responded ‘ _Pass_. _You're killing my data btw._ ’

Castiel quickly responded, ‘ _Your loss._ ’ Asshole had the courtesy of doing that on a regular text message.

Meg next message immediately. ‘ _Your loss Dean. Word on the street is he gives really great head.’_

Castiel privately texted Dean ‘ _it's true ;) I'll do you if you do me. Standing offer.’_ Weird. Forward. Endearing. Yep, that was what Castiel had become to Dean. Dean downed two more beers to distract himself from why he was even considering Castiel’s offer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2

By five months in Dean started to get used to their weird dynamic. Meg had to start a rotation at a psychiatric office, while Castiel had to travel for business one or two weeks out of the month for the foreseeable future. Roommates aren’t so bad when they aren't around. He got over being pissed at them for both trying to seduce Sam during his visit. To be fair, they didn't establish any off-limits rules in their sex game. Meg won the last two months in a row because most of the coeds went out of town between semesters. Castiel spent Christmas in New York with his family. Dean never saw so many hilarious text messages in one weekend.

Castiel convinced Dean to upgrade his cell phone. Castiel lectured him about the benefits of ‘early adoption’ of new technology and sold him on getting this ‘smart phone’ thing. It was on sale because the new model had just come out. Castiel got that one.

They celebrated Dean's birthday together by surprising him with a ski trip. Some Novak relative had a cabin they crashed at. By now both Meg and Dean gently mocked Castiel about his silver spoon upbringing. Dean wasn’t going to complain though; it meant that he got a sweet place to crash on vacation – free of charge.

After hitting the slopes for a half hour Dean regretted not letting his beard grow in like Castiel had. It had been a while since Dean attempted to grow one but was confident it would not be patchy. His face was freezing but it gave him the perfect excuse to go hang out in the ski lodge.

Dean jacked up his knees attempting snowboarding; he spent more time falling on his ass than he did upright but it was really fun. The injury was nothing a little liquor and an ice pack couldn’t fix. Plus it gave Dean the perfect excuse to get better acquainted with the plush couch that felt like it was hugging him.

Meg found some stoner ski instructor to go home with, so Castiel and Dean were left alone to raid the liquor cabinet back at the cabin. Castiel pulled out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label and Dean tried to stop him, “Woah buddy. That stuff is really expensive.” Dean would know; he counted ‘bartender’ among his many part time jobs.

Castiel pushed past him to retrieve glasses. “Dean, it's your birthday and you need to treat yourself. Just indulge! Do something for yourself and forget about the rest.” Castiel turned back to him, “Besides it's Gabriel’s place anyway. If we polish off this whole bottle, he'll be convinced he finished it himself the last time he was here.”

Dean couldn’t keep Castiel’s family straight. Castiel was an only child, but had a lot of relatives. The only one Dean remembered was Nick. That one cousin had called the house a few times to try to pick Castiel’s brain about business strategy, which was apparently Castiel’s specialty in the family. Dean reluctantly accepted the glass that Castiel handed him. “Gabriel is one of the ones you like, right?”

Castiel laughed, “We wouldn't be here if he wasn't. He is the one who left the family business before me. The one who -”

Dean interrupted, "Wait! Gabriel is the porn one, right?” Dean was referring to the large box of ‘luxury’ dildos, porn DVDs, and used panties that were sent to Castiel. Unfortunately, Gabriel sent it to Castiel’s work address by accident. Castiel was beyond furious about that. A few days later an expensive bottle of wine with an apology note was delivered to the house.

“Yes.”

Dean laughed, “Dude, that's awesome. That care package that he sent you was hilarious!”

Castiel sarcastically muttered, “Yeah.” They were going to drink this whole bottle and then some for that shit.

Several hours and way too many drinks later, they found themselves crammed together on the small couch. Dean had an arm over the back of the couch, unintentionally touching Castiel. Castiel tried to pat Dean's knee and missed, accidentally landing his hand higher on Dean’s thigh because his depth perception was off. Castiel slurred, “Happy birthday, Dean.”

Dean joked, “Any higher on my leg and I'd think you were offering a happy ending, Cas.”

Castiel pulled back a little bit. After an awkward amount of silence he spoke, “I mean, I would if you wanted it…”

They were far too shitfaced to be having this conversation right now. Dean gave a dry laugh, “Seriously, it's a shame you're not a chick.”

Castiel looked confused by that, “What difference does it make? A hand is a hand. Only difference is most guys know exactly what they're doing with a dick because we have ourselves to practice on.”

Dean dropped his arm around Castiel's shoulder to reassure him, “Except I'm not gay.”

“Neither am I,” Castiel was so sure of himself when he said it. “I didn't think I was into men at all until I tried stuff with them. Don't get me wrong - I like women too - but I think I like guys better. The sex is definitely better, at least in my opinion.”

Dean asked sincerely, “So what made you try it out with guys?”

Castiel thought it over. “Curiosity, I guess. You never know if you don't try.” He paused. Dean saw his mental wheels turning and didn't press. Castiel decided to ask the question on his mind, “Have you ever tried anything with a guy?”

Dean quickly answered, “Only kissing, nothing beyond like thirty seconds.” He would blame the alcohol later, but damned if he didn't say the next thought out loud. “I probably should try more though.”

Castiel looked at him in a drunk version of the ‘analyzing face’ he tended to made often. Dean wasn't expecting him to cup his face and pull him into a slow, tentative kiss. He pulled back and looked at a stunned Dean in the eyes. “Standing offer, if you ever wanted to try more.” Wow. Castiel’s sexy voice was even deeper than his regular speaking voice. Castiel got up from the couch and padded over to the master bedroom; he purposely left the door open.

Dean started to think it over and finally concluded: Fuck it. He followed Castiel into the bedroom. Castiel was sitting back on the king-sized bed. He had taken off his sweater, and was in an undershirt and jeans. Dean spoke shyly, “Just kissing, okay? I'm not ready for anything else.”

Castiel stood and closed the door, and ran a hand down Dean's arm. “Lights on or lights off?”

Dean replied softly, “Off but…” He looked over at the built-in fireplace in the corner facing the bed. “If you wanted to light that…”

Castiel smiled at that. “I had no idea you were so romantic.” Dean blushed. Castiel went to it and started fiddling with the logs before going to the nightstand to get a lighter. Castiel concentrated on the task at hand as he suggested, “If you're comfortable with it, I would suggest getting rid of your jeans.”

Dean pulled his jeans off in record time. He took off his flannel too. The white shirt and grey boxer briefs did nothing to hide Dean's fresh snowboarding bruises. Castiel turned back to see him and took off his own jeans so they were on equal footing. Dean smirked when he saw Castiel’s bright red briefs. Castiel smiled at Dean and held out his hand, “Come here.”

Dean blew past the point of no return without hesitation. He closed the space between them and pulled Castiel into a deep kiss. Castiel waited for Dean to use tongue first before reciprocating. It was all over after that; Castiel sucked Dean's tongue his own mouth as he backed Dean toward the bed. When Dean's knees hit the mattress he got the message and leaned back onto it, pulling Castiel down on top of him.

Castiel pulled a few dirty tricks right away: straddling Dean and pressing his weight into him, loosely pinning his arms above his head, and grinding down onto Dean's hips. Dean gasped into it and arched up, subconsciously asking for more. Castiel reluctantly left Dean's plush lips to kiss the side of Dean's neck. His beard tickled Dean's skin pleasantly. Dean wasn't expecting to like that so much. Castiel dragged a hand to Dean's shoulder and gripped him tightly. Castiel chuckled and whispered in Dean's ear, “Is it still a shame that I'm not a chick?”

Dean moaned, “Holy shit, Cas.”

Castiel ground his hips down again. He continued to tease, “I like the way you say my name.” Castiel brushed over Dean's nipple with his free hand. Dean keened then self-consciously slapped a hand over his own mouth. Castiel pried it away and pinned it to the mattress again and practically growled. “Those noises belong to me now.”

Dean was dry humping Castiel as he dragged him into another kiss, more passionate and dirtier than their last one. Castiel broke away for air and Dean took the opportunity to flip them over. Castiel may have had some dirty tricks but Dean had plenty of his own. Castiel let out a shocked, “Dean!”

Dean leaned over him and licked a stripe up Castiel’s neck while he thrust his hips against Castiel’s, “I like the way you say my name too.”

Castiel was rock hard by now and so was Dean, at which the point when Dean's earlier warning, ‘I'm not ready for anything else’ popped into Castiel’s head. It killed him but he had to say something, “Dean, we should slow down.”

Dean stopped but let out a heavy sigh. He put his forehead to Castiel’s chest. “You're probably right.”

They panted in silence for a few minutes before Castiel joked, “Leaving me with blue balls guarantees that you aren't winning the bet this month.”

Dean blushed profusely but tried to cover it, “Sorry Cas.”

Castiel immediately put a finger over his lips and shushed him. “Don't be sorry. The first thing out of your mouth was ‘kissing only.’ I'm not going to take advantage of you.”

Dean almost looked bashful in the flickering firelight. “I kinda wish you would.”

Impulsively, Castiel grabbed his phone from the nightstand and took Dean's picture. Dean let him do it. Castiel smiled at him, “When you fully wish I would, I'll be happy to.” His smile turned cocky, “I guess that means you are a little more curious than you thought. When you get there I'll pull this picture out to remind you.”

Dean shoved him onto his side, “Shut up.” Dean had no heat behind it. He pulled Castiel to his chest, spooning against him, “Mind if I stay the night? I'm really comfy.”

Castiel melted back into him, “Only if you make french toast for breakfast.”

Dean huffed a little laugh, “I’m starting to think you’re only keeping me around for my cooking… and my fine ass.”

* * *

Dean woke up the next day with a lot more questions than answers for himself. He didn't mention the previous night’s activities to Meg. Neither did Cas as far as he knew. Meg’s hangover told Dean that maybe Castiel asked for a bread-based breakfast knowing she would be in worse for the wear.

The previous night had been great - fantastic really. He didn't remember feeling anything like that before. He definitely needed to explore that side of himself… Dean and Google were going to be really good friends in the coming weeks.

  



	3. Chapter 3

In the months following the ski trip, Dean tried to break the world record for hookups all while juggling something resembling a relationship with a woman for all of six weeks. Everything about the ‘relationship’ was a chore to Dean. He even hated the sex, something he hadn't thought was possible. He gave it multiple chances, but got to the point that he couldn't handle faking it anymore.

Spring Break rolled around while Castiel was on a business trip and Meg had a lot going on at work. Dean won the sex tally game that month - thank you Delta Zetas for the three girls at once encounter. After that Dean felt… well… like a slut, which didn't feel good at all. He was starting to question whether he was even capable of being in a relationship. Dean decided it was time to put himself in a voluntary dry spell. He would let Meg and Castiel duke it out for the prize of saving about $75 in bills. Dean saved face by claiming he retired as champion.

Rufus retired early from Bobby’s garage and Bobby picked Dean up by full-time, as promised, which meant Dean would be down to the just garage and bartending as his regular jobs - no more hustling unless he chose to. It also meant he had more free time on his hands. He found himself often cleaning and doing other chores around the house during the day between jobs. This meant roommate relations were at an all time high, on the off chance they were even home. It would have been kind of difficult to bitch about Dean when the house was in order and he purposely scheduled his bar work around when the other two had to write papers for school or study. If there was any heat between Meg and Castiel, they had the decency to keep Dean out of it.

Castiel passed his certification test becoming a Certified Professional Logistician; Dean finally remembered that because he took in the mail and would leave it on Castiel’s desk in his room. There was always a meticulous stack of books there, including some guides from Castiel’s prep class. Castiel made some offhand, sarcastic comment about it being important to have a bunch of letters after his name on a resume. Whatever. Dean hoped to never be involved in white-collar stuff.

Castiel got involved with a new guy shortly after they got back from Dean's birthday vacation. It was going well until Castiel’s business trips became an issue for the new guy; the relationship potential fizzled out after two months. The situation put Castiel in a similar mindset as far as avoiding hookups.

The end of summer came in no time. Castiel firmly knocked on Dean's bedroom door one night when they were both home. Dean let him in. Castiel walked in and got straight to business, as usual, “Your lease is up at the end of the month. You're in for another year, correct?”

What? It felt like just yesterday that Dean was cursing the world and himself for agreeing to move in with these two freaks. Now he couldn't imagine it any other way. Dean smiled and clapped a hand to Castiel’s shoulder, “Hey buddy, I'm all in.”

Castiel smiled, “Good. I feel better signing on for another year here knowing that I won't be going it alone.”

Was Dean missing something? Dean asked, “Uhhh, what about Meg?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, “I love Meg but she has commitment issues. I don't count on her to not fuck off one day to somewhere on the other side of the world with no notice.”

Dean had to laugh, “So I'm the reliable one?”

Castiel gave him a genuine smile. “Dean, whether you acknowledge it or not, you are my rock right now. You are the only person in my life who I don't have to worry about causing some sort of strife for me. You are really pretty amazing.”

Dean felt a pang in his chest and heat from head to toe. He played it off, “Whatever, sap.”

Castiel changed the subject, knowing Dean didn't take compliments well. “Do you want to grab drinks at the Roadhouse on Friday? Garth and Ash have been giving me shit for not being around.”

Dean shrugged, “I never met a happy hour that I was inclined to turn down. I'll meet you guys as soon as Bobby cuts me loose.”

Castiel smiled, “Great. Thanks Dean.” He left and went to his own room. All Dean could think was ‘weirdo’ as he closed his door.

* * *

That Friday was actually a shit show at the garage. Even though Bobby called everyone before they did additional work, one prick wanted to cause a scene when he picked his truck up. The whole thing set his entire day back by forty minutes. The prick acted like he didn't know what a new set of brake pads cost.

Afterwards, Bobby tried to show Dean how to do the scheduling for the following week. Dean strongly urged him to at least make a computer copy of all the paper calendar appointments. Dean wasn't the quickest with computers but this was outright hellish. He made a mental note to call Sam and get him to sell Bobby on the idea of a computer. Happy hour specials were almost over when Dean finally arrived at the bar. Dean walked in and he was greeted with a buzzed, very happy Castiel shoving a shot in his face with an insistent, “Catch up!” They were playing darts - poorly.

_Bossy_. Dean had to wonder if Castiel was like this at his job too. He downed the shot anyway… _Jaeger, gross_. Dean grimaced as he swallowed. Before he could open his mouth, Ash was shoving a beer in his face. You could say what you wanted about his friends - they knew how to take care of their own. Dean took the challenge and chugged half of it. Dean sucked in a big breath and commented, “First off, all of you suck at darts. Second, next round is on me. What are we drinking anyway?”

Thankfully they were drinking the lager on special. Dean got his order in with a few minutes to spare. Might as well get a pitcher; strike that, two pitchers since it was still happy hour prices. Ellen raised an eyebrow and wasn’t subtle about sliding the local taxi service magnet onto the bar between his two pitchers. Dean made a show of picking the magnet up and putting it in his back pocket. He placed the pitchers on their high top table and preemptively typed the number for the taxi into his phone before pocketing it. Castiel stared Dean down, “Let's go back to your first point. I don't suck at darts. I think you're full of it and rely on swagger to get through games.”

Garth subtly scurried to the bathroom while Ash laughed his ass off. Dean crossed his arms, “Oh really? Care to make it interesting?”

Castiel met his challenge, “What are your terms?”

Dean dismissed him, “You know what? Blow me, Cas. I don't give a shit what I'm conceding for this bet because you're the one that's gonna lose.”

Castiel didn't hesitate, “Fine. Loser blows the winner, got it.” As if to prove a point, he threw a dart and completely missed the board. Dean cackled like this was a sure thing.

The problem with that whole thing was that Dean forgot that Castiel specialized in strategy for a living. Dean saw the board when he walked in and assumed Castiel was in that game. He wasn't. He was busy striking out with the busty thirty-something drinking wine up until the seconds before Dean walked in. Castiel had barely finished getting rejected when Dean walked in; and it was the perfect time to put Dean in his place.

Dean started with a cocky, “Want me to go first or do you want the honors?”

Castiel gestured to indicate that Dean should start first. Dean threw well. Castiel decided to drop the act early to get the immediate payoff. When Dean saw where Castiel’s first three landed, Dean muttered “Son of a bitch!” under his his breath.

As it turned out they were actually evenly matched. They ended up going three rounds, where Dean was victorious… barely. They were thoroughly trashed when they left. Dean called a cab and they waited outside for the taxi to show up; Castiel took the lead to by giving their address and cross street to the taxi when it finally arrived. Dean leaned heavily against Castiel in the back seat. Dean was letting his hands wander over Castiel’s shirt in a decidedly ‘more than friends’ kind of way.

Castiel joked once he thought the driver zoned out, “So you want to settle our bet tonight?”

Dean was slow to respond, “Huh?”

Castiel smiled, “Nevermind.”

They were lucky to have each other for balance when they arrived at the house. The slight incline of the driveway and front yard was enough to nearly send them tumbling more than once. They helped each other up the stairs, then stopped in front of Dean's room; Castiel was going to make a joke when Dean beat him to it. Dean gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He stumbled across the doorway and turned back, “You can come in if you want.”

Castiel had a serious, unreadable look on his face. He stated flatly, “Invite me again when you are sober.” Castiel walked over to his own room and closed the door.

Dean gave it no thought since he staggered to bed and fell asleep shortly after.

* * *

Dean woke up early, because apparently the older he got, the less his body would allow him to sleep in on the weekends. He was fuzzy on the night before but only had a slight headache. First thing’s first: coffee. The other residents would definitely be grateful for that. He put the big pot on because he was going to need at least two cups. He started cooking his own breakfast and was midway through Bacon Round One when Castiel staggered downstairs. Dean slapped Castiel’s shoulder in lieu of a verbal greeting.

Castiel stared at the coffee pot for a moment before asking, “Is it socially acceptable for me to start drinking again at this hour?” Castiel sounded like shit.

Dean laughed, “Hangover? No judgment from me but I should remind you that we have to get our cars. You might want to do that before you hair-of-the-dog it.”

Castiel groaned and put his head down on the counter. “Maybe I can pay Ash to get my car.”

Dean took pity on him. “Sit down and I'll bring you something.” Castiel complied and sat at their dining room table. Dean joined him with a plate of bacon and a large mug of coffee. He reached into his pocket and plunked down a small bottle of Aleve in front of him too. Dean felt his knees crack as he sat down. Dean joked, “Man, I wouldn't even remember how we got home last night if I didn't have that magnet in my pocket. You look like hell.”

Castiel replied, “Work hard, play hard.” He took the pills Dean offered and washed them down with a gulp of coffee. “I remember all of last night. Where does it get fuzzy for you?”

Dean thought about it. “After darts, but before making fun of Ash missing the stool and landing on his ass… pretty much everything after that.”

Castiel laughed then grimaced as it made his head pound. “You won at darts. We did shots and had another pitcher before last call. Neither of us was smart enough to bring a jacket so Ellen let us stay in the bar while she cleaned up.”

Dean liked to call this a ‘brownout.’ As Castiel reminded him of what happened, it flooded back to him. “The cab had a giant dent in the passenger side, right?”

Castiel scoffed, “Yeah, you made me sit on that side.” Dean laughed. “Do you need me to continue?”

Dean's brain got hung up on the cab ride back. Dean looked serious. He cleared his throat and asked, “Cas, on the cab ride back… you asked if I wanted to settle our bet… were you coming onto me?”

Castiel’s jaw stiffened and he looked annoyed. “Were you coming onto me when you kissed me and invited me into your room?”

“Shit,” Dean hadn't remembered it like that.

Castiel dryly continued, “Nothing happened, by the way, so you don't need to panic.”

Dean let out a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry, Cas. I know that isn't the first time I got flirty with you while I was drunk.”

Castiel looked like he had a lot to say but was choosing bottling it up. He finally broke the silence, “Dean, my standing invitation to fool around does not extend to when you are shitfaced. We barely made it up the stairs. I am not taking advantage of you like that.” Castiel paused and decided to add, “I just wish you would want it when you were sober.” Castiel didn't mean ‘it’ as in sex. No, he definitely meant ‘I wish you wanted me’ and they both knew it.

Dean felt his stomach drop. He’d known for a long time that his fondness of Castiel was complicated. He found himself staring at the guy sometimes; Castiel would politely pretend not to notice. It just didn't occur to Dean that his internal crisis would come off as rejection to Castiel.

Dean didn't bother hiding the hurt in his own voice when he spoke, “You think I don't want it? I think about it all the time! But I'm too chickenshit to try something new without booze. Why the hell would I still be doing the same routine everyday otherwise? Wake up, coffee, pour yours in the to-go mug because you spill it on yourself too much. Leave your coffee and one of those shitty protein bars next to your briefcase. _Then I worry about myself getting out to work-”_

Dean's voice cracked on that one. He was starting to open the floodgates and now he couldn’t stop. Castiel grabbed his hand as if to stop him or cut him off but it was too late. “You know what it was like for me growing up? The last thing my mom probably heard before she died was my dad yelling, ‘Take care of Sammy,’ and telling me to run. And that was my life - that kid was my life! Taking care of him and my dad was all I could do. I might’ve sucked at it but I tried! Make coffee for dad. Make sure Sammy had a decent enough dinner. Make sure that the house looked okay so when some random goddamn Child Services case workers popped by it would give them a warm, fuzzy feeling. And now Sammy is in school and he doesn't need me. No one does…” Dean tried to keep that tear from falling but before he could stop himself he was sobbing at the table.

Castiel got up and hugged Dean. That only made it worse. Dean was letting out years of repressed feelings out in that moment. Dean just crumbled into Castiel’s body and clung to him tightly. One minute they were having a heart-to-heart about attraction and the next Dean put all his trainwreck cards on the table. For Dean, it seemed like it took forever. He finally registered that Castiel had been running a reassuring hand through his hair. Castiel kept quietly repeating, “I need you, Dean.” Castiel knew it might be a while before the pounding in Dean's ears subsided long enough for him to hear it.

Dean felt himself become self-conscious about the situation. He stiffened and pulled away, wiping his nose on a napkin. “Sorry Cas -”

Castiel interjected, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one that should be apologizing! You do a ton of stuff for me and I never thank you.”

Dean took a deep breath, “It's not that I don't want you, Cas. It's just that… that night at the cabin…” Castiel let him gather his thoughts. Dean continued, “You told me that I should treat myself. I don't think anyone has ever told me that. Everyone is always telling me to challenge myself or apply myself. I'm no good. I really am. I'm especially not good enough for you. So that night when you and I…” Dean still couldn't put it in words but Castiel wasn't going to press. “You treated it - treated me - like I was special. It scares the hell out of me because I know that I’m going to fuck it up. So I cover it up by making jokes and betting you for blowjobs in dart games and acting like it's not a big deal when it really is.”

There it was. All of it.

It was a relief.

Dean wasn't expecting Castiel to pull him into the tightest embrace he’d ever felt.

Castiel wasn’t sure what had made Dean melt down that day but maybe if he just squeezed hard enough he could fuse all of Dean's broken pieces back together.

Castiel let go of him and ran a thumb over Dean's cheek. He spoke softly, “Dean, have dinner with me tonight. I want to take you on a real, actual date if you'll let me.” Castiel threw caution to the wind and kissed Dean softly on the lips. “We can take it as slow as you want. You just tell me what you are comfortable with. You don't know until you try, right?”

Dean smiled and hesitated, “Okay. Yes, I will go on a date with you.”

Dean already had conflicting, complicated, maddening feelings for the guy. He wondered if normal people even had a word for it.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean and Castiel took it slow. Dean knew he felt an attraction and liked Castiel as more than a friend. He just wasn't sure where that ended - he still loved women and wanted to be with them too. It was all very confusing.

Dean concluded that Castiel had the patience of a saint for holding his hand and taking baby steps through the whole relationship. Baby step: go to dinner at the local diner. Baby step: a quick kiss goodnight and returning to separate rooms. Baby step: making out on top of the washing machine the next day.

Big step: Castiel told Dean that he was not seeing other people while they were together. In fact, Castiel hadn't even kissed anyone between when he broke up with his ex and that night Dean kissed him in the hallway. Monumental step: agreeing to be exclusive with each other.

Dean was unsure what the protocol was supposed to be for dating your best friend and roommate. What was them hanging out as friends and what was boyfriend stuff? Castiel laughed when Dean asked and said, “Stop worrying about labels for everything. Let's just take it a day at a time.” Castiel’s smile reassured Dean that he was probably overthinking it. Castiel knew it was a realistic possibility that Dean just needed to get this out of his system before he decided that he was only curious and called it off.

After two weeks they finally told Meg. Meg laughed in their faces and told them, “Neither of you is as slick as you think you are. It's pretty obvious that you guys are a couple.”

She didn't mean anything by it but it sent Dean into a panic. Obvious? Everyone knew? They almost started over at Step One after that. He was proud of being with Castiel, but he was not ready for all the questions that would come after. Dean knew all the questions because they were what spiraled him into panic attacks - so many questions that Dean had no answers to.

Two months and they had only gone as far as heavy petting over their clothes. They hadn't even come close to that night in the cabin. Dean was constantly apologizing for keeping Castiel in ‘blue balls limbo;’ Castiel laughed and reassured him it was okay. Castiel joked, “Me, my hand, and free gay porn clips have the cure for any inconvenience.”

Panic attack: gay porn clips? Shit, had Dean ever watched it? No… yes, as a joke… no, he bought it as a gag gift and hadn't been there when it was played. He shyly asked Castiel for recommendations. Maybe he would feel better about the next step if he watched it. Hell, he learned a lot of his techniques on girls as a teenager by watching stolen porn before Sam got home from school.

* * *

Three months in and Thanksgiving plans came up. Castiel wanted to avoid his family. Gabriel couldn't make it this year. That would leave Castiel to be the lone black sheep in a den of wolves. 

Panic attack: what was Dean going to tell Sam? What was Dean going to tell his dad? Castiel hugged him and sincerely told him, “We don't need to tell anyone anything. It's none of their business.” Anyone, besides Meg, who knew about their relationship was constantly putting one of them on the spot: Garth, Ash, Ellen… actually, booze was involved every time they got put on the spot… probably because Dean got handsy with Castiel when he drank.

It was only a matter of time before Bobby knew; the guy definitely suspected it. And if Bobby knew he would tell his dad, John. Looping back to: what the hell was Dean going to tell his family?

* * *

After a long discussion with Meg, and checking with Castiel, Dean decided he would tell Sam first. They had a weekly ‘brothers time’ phone call anyway, though it usually ended up being every two or three weeks with Sam's schoolwork and odd jobs. Stanford was a valid excuse, Dean supposed. He might have busted Sam's balls, but he beamed with pride when he told people that his baby brother was going to be a lawyer.

Dean started with, “So me and Cas, we're kinda like…”

Sam interjected, “Getting married?” Civil unions were a thing. Sam almost sounded excited.

Dean squawked into the phone, “What?!”

Sam innocently replied, “Oh, so what are you and your boyfriend doing?”

Dean was pissed, “I was calling to tell you that Castiel is my boyfriend. You knew that I'm dating and living with another dude?”

Sam laughed, “Dean, anyone who has been around you two or heard you talk about him knows.”

“Wait a minute! We weren't together yet when you visited -”

“Yeah, but you were going to be. It was pretty obvious, especially when he was hitting on me just to piss you off.”

Dean didn't like Sam’s smug tone. ‘Obvious’ was quickly becoming his most hated word. One down and two to go. He begged Sam not to mention it to their dad. He wanted to wait until the weekend to call him - no sense in sending John on a bender in the middle of the workweek.

* * *

Bobby was up next. It became their Friday afternoon tradition to slowly and progressively drag Bobby’s garage into the digital age. Dean did most of that, but showed Bobby as he went what to do so Bobby got more comfortable with it. They would often have a drink or two while they wrapped up for the week.

Dean had finished one glass of cheap scotch as liquid courage first. Dean started, “Bobby, I need to talk to you about something…”

“Ah, hell! You ain't quitting on me, are you?”

“What? No!”

“Fine, you get a raise. Now let's drop the awkwardness and get back to work.” The old coot hadn't even looked up from his set of credit card receipts.

“Wow, thanks!” Dean hadn't thought about _asking_ for more money. Dean redirected the conversation; “... but actually I wanted to talk to you about something personal.”

Bobby looked at him seriously, “Everything okay? Is it your old man? I haven't heard from him in a while.”

Dean spat it out, “I'm dating Cas. We're a couple. And before you ask: I don't know if I am gay or what the hell all of this means! I just know that it's new and different in a good way.”

Bobby looked at him like he was an idiot, “And?”

Dean gave him an incredulous look. “And, what?”

Bobby laughed, “Dean, I work with you all day long. It has been pretty obvious that something good changed in your life.” He clapped a hand onto Dean's shoulder. “And any idjit could figure out that it was that Castiel character… because no way in hell it was Meg!”

Dean laughed and Bobby hugged him. Dean poured them two more glasses. Dean quietly asked, “Bobby, I'm telling my dad tomorrow. Can you just… not mention this conversation until I tell him? You know, on the off chance the universe gives him the bright idea to call you tonight.”

* * *

Next step: panic attack; tell dad. Dean had a drink to calm his nerves and paced the halls. Meg and Castiel had the good sense to steer clear. Smaller panic attack: okay, call dad. He dialed but hesitated over the ‘send’ button.

John answered with a normal gruff voice, “Hello.”

Dean tried playing cool, “Hey Dad, are you busy? I wanted to talk about Thanksgiving.”

John replied, “It's November already? God, I feel like it was just the summer.” The last time Dean asked, John was working three or four jobs to afford child support and a shitty apartment. John rarely knew what day it was, but made sure to keep weekends open. Dean had hoped John’s open weekends would mean quality time with Adam.

Dean smiled, “So did you give any thoughts to Thanksgiving?”

John sighed, “Adam has some sort of hockey tournament and his mother made it clear that I'm not exactly welcome since she is seeing someone. I was gonna call you to see what your plans are since I can't afford to fly out to Sam.”

Dean felt bad for the guy. He moved to be closer and be an actual father to Adam since Sam and Dean managed to make it to adulthood and were attempting to put down roots of their own. For the most part, John just got continually, metaphorically, kicked in the teeth for his efforts. “Right now I've got Johnnie, Jack, and José as dinner guests but we can make room.” John laughed. He wasn't exactly happy that Dean inherited his tendency to drink so much, but trusted that Dean had it under control. “Actually, that's why I'm calling. I have been seeing someone and I didn't want to spring that on you.”

John paused, “Tell me about her.” Dean felt nauseous. His ears were ringing. ‘ _Tell me about her_ ’ echoed through his brain. “Dean? You still there?” John sounded further away, logically checking to see if the call dropped.

“Yeah, I'm here.” Dean took a deep breath. “The person I'm seeing isn't a ‘she,’ Dad. It's…” Fuck it. “It's Cas. We've been dating and it's really, really good. I'm happy.”

Dean didn't know what he expected. For John to curse him out? Disown him? Off himself? Dean didn't expect John's actual response, “Cas like your roommate? The one that's always taking care of you?”

Dean gave a quiet, “Yeah. That Cas.”

John laughed, actually laughed, “Normally I would grill one of you boys about new people in your lives but I guess I can skip that part. I'm surprised, Dean, but not shocked. When I talked to him on the phone over 4th of July, it was pretty obvious that you guys had a connection-”

Dean audibly groaned into the phone, “Why does everyone keep saying it was ‘obvious,’ huh?”

John laughed harder, “Because it was!”

Dean got furious, “It's not funny, Dad!”

John gathered himself long enough to ask, “So am I the last one to know?”

Dean gave an honest response, “Last one I was going to go out of my way to tell. It's not like I put a neon sign over us… I'm not even sure if I'm gay. He makes me happy. Right now that's what I am sure of. I'm not going around advertising it but I'm not hiding it either.”

John replied, “Good. I'm happy for you. And he's gonna get his ass kicked if he breaks your heart.”

“Dad!”

“So what am I bringing to Thanksgiving?”

* * *

John made a few cracks about all the ‘crushes’ Dean had on professional wrestlers growing up. God that meant John would have a full arsenal of embarrassment by Thanksgiving. The last thing Dean expected from everyone was support.

Dean took the stairs two at a time. He knocked on Castiel’s door and kissed him breathless. Castiel chuckled when they broke apart, “I take it that your call went well?”

Dean sheepishly looked down, “How much of it did you hear?”

Castiel smirked, “Just you yelling at him that something wasn't funny. I assumed it was not going to the doomsday scenario you probably dreamed up.”

Dean kissed him, “He's happy that you make me happy.” Another kiss. “And he's coming here for Thanksgiving.” Castiel laughed. Dean pulled back grinning, “Cas, don't go to New York. Spend the holidays with me.”

Castiel pulled him into a sloppy kiss. “I thought you'd never ask.”

Dean stared at him, “You sneaky bastard! You never even booked tickets out, did you?”

Castiel smirked and said nothing. He secretly worked with Sam to book Sam a flight back for Thanksgiving as a surprise a week ago. Big step for Castiel: winning the hearts and minds of the Winchesters.


	5. Chapter 5

The five-months-as-a-couple mark was right around Thanksgiving. Meg nabbed some sort of internet deal to go on an all-inclusive Caribbean vacation during the week of the holiday. That freed up room for Dean's family to stay in the house while they were in town. Meg shouted, “Make sure there’s man-smell all over my pillows before I get back!” as Castiel rushed her out the door to drive her to the airport. John declined in advance and said he'd stay with Bobby and catch up. Sam's flight was still a secret under wraps. Bobby was also invited to dinner, but it wasn't clear if he was coming or not.

The night before everyone was arriving, Castiel insisted that they go out. They went to a new, fancy restaurant - Dean knew it had to be expensive when the menu didn't list prices. They had already argued and Castiel already won; Castiel was paying for everything. Dean even put on a suit and tie for this shit. The last time he wore them was to a funeral. If it weren't for the everlasting recurrence of weddings and funerals, Dean wouldn't own one at all!

Dean would reluctantly admit that the deeply pleased hum and subsequent compliments from Castiel, upon seeing him in more formal attire for the first time, would definitely get Dean in a suit again.

Wow, was he in trouble… Dean found himself just staring at the man as he scanned the wine list. When did he start feeling jittery just from looking at Castiel's face?

Castiel looked up at Dean, “You're okay with red?”

Dean didn't know shit about wine. He didn’t dislike it. The stuff was usually expensive if you don't want a bitch of a hangover, at restaurants, anyway. Castiel gave the waiter the wine bottle order and the waiter hurried off. Dean assumed whatever it was was really pricey - he knew that server-eagerness from his bar job. Dean decided that now was as good a time as any to broach something with Castiel. “Hey Cas,” Castiel looked up from the food menu to meet Dean's nervous gaze, “I was just wondering. You remember that bar bet?” Castiel wasn't sure where Dean was going with this. Dean continued, “I kicked your ass in darts and the winner got a BJ from the loser… does your ‘not gonna take advantage’ policy extend to if I told you, right now, I want that tonight? I'm stone sober and you know it but, honestly, I get drunk as shit off wine.”

Castiel placed his menu down and grabbed Dean's hand fondly, “First off, this probably isn't the place to be having this conversation. That said, part of why I like you so much is how blunt and inappropriate you can be.” Castiel looked at him seriously, “Can you clarify ‘drunk as shit’ for me?”

Dean gave him a skeptical look, “It's a lot stronger than most beer. It's not on the level of the hard liquor I usually upgrade to.”

Castiel interrupted, “Perhaps I should rephrase: do you get sloppy or blackout drunk from it?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “No, I'm not ambitious enough to get blackout drunk from wine. It just makes me, I don't know, kinda weird. I'll definitely be all over you. It makes me…. needy, I guess.”

Castiel’s smirk gave Dean the chills. Castiel picked up his menu and nonchalantly said, “Noted.”

Dean was torn between turned on and pissed off. Dean put down his menu. “You didn't answer my question.”

Castiel peered over his own, “I'll play it by ear. It would be a damn shame if you didn't remember the first time that I rocked your world.”

Dean’s blood ran boiling hot. He knew Castiel was never one to over-promise and under-deliver. Dean didn't let it show, “Seems like you have a lot of confidence in your skills there, buddy.” The waiter picked the exact wrong time to approach the table. Dean snapped, “We need a minute!” and Castiel busted out laughing. Dean had definitely showed his cards on that one.

* * *

Dean was annoyed about the wine because he had previously seen it on a list at his second job when there was a management meeting they forced him to attend. They deemed it way too expensive for their crowd and basically just laughed that there were people out there willing to pay that much for it. Dean was reminded once again that he and Castiel came from such different circumstances. It was delicious and went down easy though, Dean would give it that.

By the time dinner was over, they were one and a half bottles of wine down. Dean had the surf and turf. Castiel had the quail. Dean got to make fun of Castiel for his fancy upbringing until the food came. Castiel mostly said nothing; he just kept topping off Dean's glass and occasionally fake-apologizing to the couples around them for Dean’s loudness. Castiel wasn't sorry at all - he got a thrill from how these proper people were stirred up by two men on a date. When Dean started mouthing off it just got them more irate. Castiel loved it. He just played into what would annoy Dean, and got him more fired up.

Castiel settled the bill and let Dean hang all over him in the lobby while they waited for a cab. Dean tugged at Castiel's tie and sloppily kissed his neck. Castiel whispered hot against Dean's ear just before they left, “On second thought, I don't give a shit how drunk you are.”

Dean yelled, “Fuck yeah!”

Castiel knew the quail was overcooked, the lobster was priced well above market value, and they’d overcharged for the bottles of Quintessa. He took personal pleasure that Dean’s boisterous behavior and his complicity would be costing this place more returning customers as they left. He saw no need to be foolish with his money just because he had it to spend.

Castiel tried to get Dean equally fired up in the cab but the driver scolded at them. Instead he spent his ride holding Dean at arm’s length while Dean whined about it. Dean wasn't kidding about the needy-wine-drunk thing. It was a total turn on for Castiel.

Castiel pushed him against the inside of the cab’s door and looked at him seriously, “This is very important: how many fingers am I holding up?”

Dean looked at him like he grew an extra head. “What?”

Castiel snapped, “Dean, this is very important. Consider it a field sobriety test. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Dean didn't hesitate, “Two, you weirdo. Is this because I was mouthing off in there? Because you were egging me on and I thought that's what you wanted me to do.”

Castiel dragged him into a filthy kiss. Dean guessed there were perks to giving Castiel the answers he wanted to hear. Castiel was sure to give the driver a generous tip when they arrived home.

Once inside, Dean dropped his overly-drunk act. He slammed Castiel back against the door as he ripped off his tie with sure hands. Castiel nipped his bottom lip and shoved him away so he could put the leftover wine down and rip his suit jacket off. “You tricked me! You're not even that drunk, are you?” Castiel wasn't mad; on the contrary, he was really impressed.

Dean threw his own jacket on the floor and smirked, “I still want that blowjob, like right fucking now.”

Castiel grabbed Dean's hand away from his own belt and gave him a dangerous look, “Get on the couch. Leave this,” he tugged on Dean's belt for emphasis, “for me.”

Dean’s ass had barely connected with the cushions when Castiel mounted him. Castiel had a knee on either side of Dean's hips and kissed him again as he worked off Dean's tie. Dean was reduced to whimpers as he unbuttoned Castiel’s shirt, only to meet the undershirt beneath it. Dean firmly planted a hand on each shoulder and held Castiel back, “You need to lose those shirts right now!”

Castiel chose to forgo teasing him because after five months, he couldn't give less of a shit if he looked eager now. His cufflinks went clattering to the floor as he stripped his shirt off. The undershirt was thrown aside next. Dean managed to get his own shirt off too. Castiel plastered himself to Dean, gasping at the skin-on-skin contact.

The plan was always to drag it out. The plan had always been to torture and tease Dean. Castiel had spent countless hours jerking off to the fantasy of making Dean beg. That plan went out the window when Castiel finally got his hands on him. Screw it; he could make Dean beg another day. He slid his hands between them to work on Dean's belt as they kissed frantically. Once he wrenched it open he slid down Dean's body to kneel on the floor between his legs.

He hooked his fingers under Dean's boxers and yanked them and Dean's pants down to the middle of his thighs. He flicked his eyes up to check Dean's reaction but they didn't make it past his cock. Castiel wrapped a hand around the base and pumped slowly, up and down. Castiel couldn't resist commenting, “Better than I imagined.”

Dean moaned above him and grinned, “Yeah? You spent time thinking about it?”

Castiel meant to hum in agreement but it came out closer to a growl. “Five months, Dean. You told me to blow you five. Fucking. Months ago.” Castiel tightened his grip and sped up. “I've been thinking about it a hell of a lot.”

Dean smugly smiled. “Well don't let me stop you now.” Castiel gave him a challenging look and before he licked at a gradual pace from the base tracing the underside of Dean’s shaft to just below the head. Castiel paused and placed a small kiss on the top of the head. He gave Dean the best smolder he could muster at this angle. Dean huffed out, “Tease.”

Castiel barely let him get the word out before he closed his eyes and sucked Dean down hard. He was purposely being sloppy so his excess spit would help glide his hand along. Dean let out a loud moan and dropped his hands to the back of Castiel’s head. Castiel snaked his free hand down, unbuckled his own pants, and shoved them down so he could jerk himself off at the same time. Dean tried to control it by thrusting his hips up and forcing Castiel’s head down. Castiel gagged slightly but broke free, warning, “Don't try to fuck my face! Let me work.”

“Bossy - ohmygod -” Dean was going to mouth off but Castiel shut him up by bracing one arm across his hips and sucking more intensely, deep-throating him. He hummed afterward just to punctuate the point: he could take it all if he felt like it.

He popped off and started jerking Dean quickly, chuckling, “I told you that guys are better at this.” He went back to work, concentrating on the sensitive area just below the head with his tongue. He added strategic moans and hums were added just to drive Dean crazy. He worked the shaft with a pattern of down-up-twist pattern at a gradually building pace… he knew damn well that would do the trick because that was what he liked it on himself. He looked up at Dean again and earned a response that would be pitiful if it wasn't so sexy to see him like this. Castiel decided to keep eye contact as long as possible because it was clearly undoing Dean.

Dean started babbling, “Shit, you really fucking good at this. Fuck…” Dean's head fell back against the couch. He kept talking, “I'm an idiot. I'm a fucking idiot for not asking for this months ago!”

Despite the mouthful, Castiel managed a “Mmmhmm” in agreement. Castiel was stripping his own dick at this point - sure he’d had his share of giving head before, but he never wanted it so much - he certainly hadn’t expected Dean to be so vocal. Dean kept going; his responses mostly mixed loud moans with combination of ‘Cas,’ ‘fuck,’ and ‘good.’ Castiel had to take pride in the fact that a majority of it was incoherent gibberish. He definitely hadn't pegged Dean for being a babbler during sex, but he loved every minute of it. The one coherent thing Dean managed to get was a quick, “I'm close.”

Again, not Castiel’s first time, he could tell Dean was seconds from coming from experience. Castiel gave him an affirmative grunt and sucked more intensely. Dean gripped Castiel’s shoulder with one hand and his arm with the other as he started coming. Castiel tried to swallow all of it but it was too much. He pulled back and finished Dean off with his hand. Dean tried to keep watching Castiel until his body forced him to close his eyes and throw his head back. Castiel made the passing comment, “This is a good look for you,” knowing it wouldn't register with Dean.

Castiel took Dean’s reaction as permission to come - he wasn’t quite there yet but he was close. He found himself staring at the tattoo and the freckles peppered around it on Dean's chest as Dean panted in the wake of his orgasm. Dean's lusty moan snapped him out of his concentration. Castiel looked at Dean's face and saw Dean was taking in the sight: Castiel still on his knees jerking off between Dean's own splayed legs while Dean was on the couch. Dean spoke with a sex-rough voice, “Holy shit, Cas. You look so hot like that. This is a good look for you.” Castiel blushed and looked away. He was embarrassed by the praise but turned on at the same time, noting Dean’s echo of his own sly words. Dean’s recent orgasm apparently did nothing to stop Dean from noticing. Dean smirked, “Oh, I get it. You're all bossy and in charge until you are on your knees for me?”

Castiel blushed more but wouldn't let it slide, “No.” He kicked himself mentally; he didn't sound remotely convincing.

“Liar.” Dean sat up more on the couch and hardened his gaze. “Lean back. I want to get a better view.”

Castiel leaned further back and braced his free hand on the floor behind; the position was nothing too crazy. Either way he was satisfied with the noise Dean made unconsciously. Castiel arched his back slightly, pumping himself at a furious rate. He finally broke and whined, “Dean, may I come?”

Dean groaned, “Fuck yeah.” Dean wasn't expecting him to ask for permission. It was ridiculously hot. Hello, newfound kink. His spent dick lurched in its attempt to get back in the game.

Castiel noticed Dean’s reaction and rumbled out, “Thank you, sir.” He gave a smug smirk when Dean moaned and grabbed at himself in reaction. He couldn’t gloat for long, though, it all built to one searing climax for Castiel. He shouted Dean's name and nearly buckled as he came in long spurts and collapsed back on the floor panting.

An idea occurred to Dean after giving Castiel enough time to recover. He shifted forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. Dean spoke softly, so as not to startle Castiel, “I really want to take your picture right now. You look gorgeous.” Castiel looked completely spent: expensive pants unbuckled with a spatter of come on them, cock still out of his open fly, arms and legs at a haphazard angle, and a wonderfully-relaxed face. Dean liked to think he took great pictures. It was one of the few hobbies he allowed himself to enjoy now that he had more free time, even if it was only on his phone.

Castiel answered with a noncommittal “Whatever.” Dean scrambled for his phone in his pocket and snapped several fast shots. He checked them to ensure they were not blurry before he stood up to take a couple more from a different angle. He kicked his pants and boxers off in the process. Dean checked those and smiled, pleased with himself. His train of thought was interrupted when Castiel laughed at him. Castiel rolled onto his side to look at him, “That was not how I imagined it but definitely much better… more intense.”

Dean blushed, “Yeah?”

Castiel noticed Dean's pants on the floor and jumped up, “Oh God, I got come on your pants.” Dean burst out laughing as Castiel grabbed them from the floor.

Dean couldn't resist piling on, “And your pants.” He looked back over to the scene of the crime. “Aaaaaand the couch.”

Castiel replied with a mortified, “I'll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Castiel went to walk toward the kitchen when Dean moved in front of him. Dean grinned widely, “What if I wanted to keep that on there. You never know where you might end up. Maybe one day I can Monica Lewinsky you.” Dean winked at him just because he could.

“You are infuriating!” Castiel shoved past him and shouted back over his shoulder, “And disgusting!” It took a second for Dean's reference to sink in.


	6. Chapter 6

The five-and–a-half-months mark had the distinction of their first fight-- to the point of breaking up. After Thanksgiving, things seemed great until Dean started to have a crisis of conscience about being seen as “gay” in the eyes of others. Dean loved women. He loved everything about them. He loved vaginas, excessively, and why was Castiel fucking with him like this? Why would Castiel get his hooks into Dean’s core like that?

Needless to say, Castiel's response was to shout, “Fuck yourself,” as he slammed his bedroom door in Dean's face.

Castiel brought home two different girls that weekend. Either they were both gifted actresses or Castiel was equally good in bed with women. Not that Dean paid attention, he was too busy with the women throwing themselves at him to bother with it.

House relations were awkward to say the least.

* * *

The problem with hook ups was that Dean felt even worse every time he hooked up.

… not at the time, obviously. He would hold back, feigning sincerity, talking about how he wanted to sleep with them but it just didn't feel right. When Castiel left in a cab to fly out to his family for Christmas Dean started to realize that he’d probably fucked up. Meg was clearly pissed at Dean, too, avoiding him as much as possible at that point.

He texted ‘ _Merry Christmas_ ’ and other pleasantries to Castiel while he was gone. When New Year's Eve came, Dean finally consumed enough booze to call Castiel. Castiel didn't answer. Dean didn't leave a message.

* * *

Castiel arrived back promptly on January 2nd; he was certainly consistent with the whole ‘spend time with family out of obligation’ thing. Castiel was downing a glass of scotch when Dean dragged himself in from a ten-hour bartending shift. Tips had been great but he was exhausted. Castiel caught sight of him and made to leave. Dean blocked his exit by stepping in front of him. Dean insisted sternly, “We need to talk.”

Castiel huffed loudly and crossed his arms, “What is there to talk about? You made it pretty clear that things were over before I left.”

Dean let his guard down and said flatly, “I'm sorry, Cas. I'm just really confused. All I know is that I'm happy when I'm with you and I'm miserable when I'm not. You're my best friend.” Dean dared to look at Castiel, who still had a hardened gaze on him. Dean felt a need to say more, “I just… can we go back?”

“Back?”

Dean felt vulnerable but continued, “Back to what we were. You know, get back together. Be boyfriends again. Or at least friends?”

Castiel snapped, “Are you serious? I was patient and understanding, then you accused me of mindfucking you into caring about me--”

Dean interrupted, “I'm sorry.”

Castiel cut him off, “I'm not doing this again. I can't care about you, learn to rely on you, then just have the rug ripped out from under me because you don't want people to think you're queer! So you're bisexual, Dean. It doesn't give you carte blanche to shit on everything we have!”

Dean cracked. He really should have thought through what he'd say to Castiel when he got home; he didn't know whether to scream, cry, or just walk away. Instead he stared at the floor and let the silence stretch to the point of awkwardness. Castiel moved past him and went to the stairs. Dean finally said, wretchedly, “I'm sorry. You deserve much better than me anyway.”

Castiel stormed back to the kitchen and slammed his glass on the counter. He gripped Dean's shoulders hard enough to hurt and shook him slightly. Castiel replied in an angry, firm tone, “I'm the one who decides what is good enough for me! Dean, you deserve the best if you allow yourself to have it. Regardless of whom it is with!” Castiel let go of Dean and picked his glass back up. “Don't ask me to get back together if you're not sure. If we get back together, it's all in for me. Don't take that lightly. Just… think long and hard about this. If you really want to give it another shot, come tell me tomorrow. Or-- whenever you are ready.”

After Castiel left the room, Dean felt like he was frozen in place for hours thinking about what Castiel had said.

* * *

It only took two days for Dean to conclude that he needed to win Castiel back. Step One: get goddamned Meg out of the goddamned house for a night. When he approached her, she was… less than receptive. Dean asked her to just give him a few hours on a Wednesday night to have an evening alone with Castiel. She responded coolly, “Why should I let you get close enough to hurt my unicorn again?”

Dean always knew she was fiercely protective of Castiel. Scratch Plan A. _New step one: convince Meg he sincerely wanted to win Castiel back._ “Look, what do I have to do to convince you? I hurt him. I feel like shit. I want him back.”

Meg glared at him, “Not good enough. I thought you were great together but you ripped his heart out. You can't bail on him just because you miss pussy.”

Dean snapped, “He fucked two girls within three days of us breaking up!”

“He gets a pass. He was pretty fucked up that weekend after you dumped him.”

Dean had to switch tactics. Fighting with the woman would continue to be pointless. “I'm a fuckup, Meg. You should know that. We've known each other long enough for you to be sure that is part of my personality--”

“So is scamming people. That was the goal of changing the subject to how much you don't value yourself, right?” _Goddamn Meg and her goddamned psychology,_ Dean thought. She continued, “If you told me that you were talking through your feelings and working out some of your feelings about yourself, I'd be more inclined to believe you. Until then you're not getting my help or my approval.” She softened her tone slightly, “You need to at least like yourself first. Castiel will try to love you enough to make up for how much you hate yourself. It's not good for either of you.”

Dean felt crushed because she was right. He looked at the floor and spoke in a flat, quiet voice, “I know I'm not good enough for him. I know I’m being selfish for wanting him back. Castiel deserves better than me.”

Meg grabbed her tote bag from the floor and rooted through it. She dug a card out from the bottom of it and walked over to Dean. “Look, I know you’ve had terrible, horrible, really bad experiences with talking about your feelings with a professional but you should give it another shot. This is one of the places I interned with. They'd probably see you for cheap, if not for free.” She handed him the card. “I'm not saying I'll never approve or help. I'm just saying you need to show me I'm not going to be watching a repeat of the last year all over again.”

Dean wrote Castiel a note in the interim. He expressed that he wanted Castiel back but also wanted to prove that he was serious this time. Dean just needed time to prove it.

* * *

That was how Dean found himself crawling out of his own skin on a Tuesday afternoon in a headshrinker’s office three weeks later. It was supposed to be a 90-minute consultation. She paused the session to push back other clients by a half hour when they were less than an hour in.

Dean squirmed under her scrutiny most of the time. He paced and looked out the window a lot. He hated that assessing look she kept giving him, like he was some sort of lab rat, and told her as much. She responded with understanding insistence that anyone in his position would be justified in not trusting her at first.

They were an hour and fifteen minutes in when Dean finally got her off the zillion questions she had about his dead mother, his ‘too-close’ relationship with his brother, his father's drinking, the foster care system, his own brushes with the law… his _feelings_ on all of that. He saw her write _‘codependent?’_ in her notes when he talked about moving to the area after Sam decided to stay at Stanford to go to law school. That certainly pissed him off. He told her that much, too.

The topic of Castiel had her writing down a lot less than she had before. Dean became defensive and asked why that wasn't important enough for her. She threw him off with one question: “Do you see yourself potentially falling in love with him?”

Dean was taken aback. Actually, he was stunned silent. He found himself staring at some fat squirrel in the tree outside her window as he thought about it. It felt like twenty minutes passed in silence, even though he knew it hadn't been that long. “I think I might be in love with him already.”

She gave a small, reassuring smile. “That's why I don't need to write anything down about Castiel, Dean. You're scared, and that's perfectly normal. Being in love is scary. This Castiel is giving you something, emotionally, that you have never had before and that can be scary, too.” She jotted something down. “I assure you: there's a lot of complicated clients that come through here. Most of them wouldn't say they have feelings for another person as confidently as you just did.”

Dean blushed, “So what do I do to win him back?”

She softened slightly, “I think that's a topic we can explore in another session. We're at a good stopping point for today.” _Translation: Dean finally stopped being defensive and she wasn't pushing her luck._ “Are you available Friday?”

“Fridays suck for me.” He pulled double duty bartending until close on 'Thirsty Thursday' then putting in a full day at the garage afterwards. Dean realized she was asking to see him twice in the same week. “Jeez, twice a week! Even our case worker only saw her biggest head cases once every other week-- I ain't putting cigarettes out on people or starving kids!” The social workers would pop by every three to six weeks when Sam or Dean were being monitored by them; that was fairly normal in their neighborhood.

She tried to deflect, “I'm not a case worker, Dean. You’re an adult. This is an entirely different circumstance than what you’re used to.” Dean was glaring at her-- so much for ground gained. “Next Tuesday, then? Same time?”

Dean gave a dry, “Sure.”

He never wanted to go back to that place.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean was cagey when he got back home. The session forced feelings to bubble to the surface that Dean kept shoved down. He felt like one giant raw nerve ending. When he entered the apartment, Castiel and Meg were watching TV on the couch. Dean, uncharacteristically, went directly upstairs without acknowledging them. He felt like he had bugs crawling on him, like he wanted to scratch until he bled. He wanted to cry until all these feelings retreated back into the pit in his stomach. _Maybe booze would help those feelings get there…_

He got to his bedroom and stripped off his over shirts, leaving on just a black tee and jeans. He kept an emergency bottle of whiskey somewhere in here… it had been long enough that he actually forgot where it was. He started with his nightstand. When that failed to yield results he checked his desk. That was when he heard a soft knock at his door. He ignored it. The knock returned, louder and more confident this time.

Dean swung the door open and saw Meg. She had two glasses of whiskey. Bless her for knowing him well enough. “Invite a girl in?” Dean gestured to allow her passage. She handed him one of the glasses and closed the door. They clinked glasses and sipped. Dean noted that this whiskey was some of the good stuff. Meg asked casually, “So how'd it go today? I realize I kinda bullied you into it.”

Dean took a long sip. “She spent the entire time grilling me about my feelings about shit I buried a long time ago.” He put his glass down on his desk and went to the closet. “I've been looking for my emergency booze and it's been long enough that I fucking forgot where I hid it!” Meg laughed as Dean started digging through his tiny closet. He emerged victorious after he opened his suitcase and saw the large, unopened bottle, and continued, “I'm the one who brought up Castiel. She thinks I'm just scared because I'm in love with him.” He finished his drink and twisted open the seal on the newly-found bottle.

Meg was taken aback by how casually Dean said it, “Whoa-- _in love?”_

Dean corrected himself, “She didn't directly say it, not exactly. She asked if I felt like I could potentially fall for him and I said I already did.”

Meg was still trying to process it. It wasn't that she doubted Dean's feelings-- she had doubted his ability to recognize and acknowledge his feelings. She repeated, “Love?”

Dean became annoyed, “Yes, Meg, I am pretty sure that I am in love with him. What the fuck is _with_ you psychoanalyst types? Is it fun to repeat the same questions over and over?”

Meg downed the rest of her drink and poured another glass from Dean's bottle. She asked quietly, “Dean, does Cas know? I mean, have you told him that?”

Dean responded quickly, “No, but he knows.”

 _Fuck it,_ Meg wasn't either of their therapists. She was their friend. This wasn't a situation for keeping information back because of privilege. “He doesn't though. I think he _wants_ you to be in love, because he certainly is with you.” Dean visibly stiffened at those words. Meg recognized it as Dean thinking that his feelings for Castiel were one-sided. She continued, “That's why I put my foot down when you said you wanted him back. I didn't want you taking advantage of him if you were just looking for fun and he was falling for you. But if you two saps are actually on the same page, I'll let you try to win him back.”

Dean was stunned, yet again. He tried to break the tension by joking, “Even though I'm not good enough for him?”

Meg responded bluntly, “Your jagged edges seem to fit together, Dean. Don't take that for granted. Just tell him you love him. He'll take you back in a heartbeat.”

Dean felt a pang in his chest, and not the good kind. It was that dark, horrible feeling that made him want to cry until his body ran out of steam. All he could muster was, “I can't do that,” as he took a long pull from his glass.

Meg looked confused and concerned, “What?”

Dean stared at his glass instead of talking to her, “I can't just _say_ it.”

Meg wasn’t getting it, “Dean, it's just as simple as saying, ‘Cas, I love you.’ Why are you overthinking it?”

Dean snapped, “Because the last time I said that was to my mom, okay? It was the last thing I said to her before she died. I haven't said that to anyone since. Not to Sammy. Not to my dad. Nobody.” He fought gallantly against that tear escaping, but he was used to crying when he thought about his mom.

Meg knew Dean's mom died. She also knew that it messed Dean up and that the system had completely and utterly failed him and his family. “Holy shit. Dean, I'm sorry.” She also felt a sense of anger on his behalf. That was exactly why Dean walked into the house and said nothing. This was something that came up during his session and should have been pursued. She tempered her anger before she spoke, “… I think this is something where your therapist scratched the surface and it would have come out if she pursued it.”

Dean was retorted, “Yeah, well, I'm never going back there again.” Suddenly Meg was the only thing that he could focus on, after all, he had only done this to placate her. “This is bullshit, Meg. I feel horrible. Is this what you do for a living? You dredge up old stuff to make people feel like shit?”

Meg knew from professional experience that he was just lashing out. “I'm sorry, Dean, but a lot of this stuff is feeling horrible now so you can feel better in the future. Sometimes you have to make a mess to clean up, you know?”

Dean chugged the rest of his whiskey and poured another, “Fuck off.”

She tentatively pressed a hand over his glass. “Fine but slow down, okay?”

Dean put down the glass and turned his back. She left and closed the door behind her. Dean tried to fight it, but his anger quickly simmered into crying; that crying lead to sobbing, which felt great and horrible at the same time. It was like letting off steam. Once the floodgates opened all he could do was go with it. Dean cried until he was too exhausted to move, falling asleep without leaving his room for the rest of the night.

* * *

Castiel and Meg decided to go to bed around the same time. Castiel noticed the sound of what could only be Dean sobbing and turned toward the room. Meg pushed him out of the way. Castiel was livid, _“What the fuck_ , Meg?" 

Meg demurred, “I referred him to a colleague.”

Castiel snapped, “Obviously a colleague that has no idea what they're doing.”

Meg kept a cool head, “He's a complicated guy with a lot of repressed feelings. You and I both know that. Frankly, I'm shocked it only took one session to get him like this.” Castiel softened; he couldn’t argue with that logic. She continued, “Objectively speaking, what that tells me is that his emotions are a lot closer to the surface than he would lead people to believe. Don't go in there right now. If you do, you are going to wrap yourselves around the axle again. He's raw. Let him get some of his bravado back up before he sees you-- on his own terms. Otherwise it'll just be a source of insecurity and he'll start to resent you for it.”

Castiel felt his stomach sink. He wanted to gather Dean up, hold him, and tell him everything was going to be okay. That instinct was exactly what got Dean to the point that he called things off. It hurt. Castiel begrudgingly admitted, “I guess you're right. Should I be expecting a bill for your services?”

Meg joked, “How about my part of the cable bill and a handle of vodka? That'll make us square. For now.” She punched him playfully. “Hey, don't do that whole self-critique thing right now. Sometimes you have to let people work it out on their own.”

Castiel looked like he was over thinking it, “I guess.”

Meg tried the same tactic that she tried with Dean. “Sometimes you have to make a mess to clean things up. Go to bed. He'll be much better in the morning.”

* * *

Dean woke up earlier than usual and was stir crazy. Dean wouldn't be at the shop until 10 that morning because of inspections. He baked muffins, an excessive quantity of them, and insisted that Castiel take some to work as he was cleaning the counters. They were certainly better than the protein bars he was used to consuming for breakfast. Castiel texted him about his good they tasted later that morning. Dean responded, ‘ _I'll settle for giving you a foodgasm.’_ Castiel spent the rest of the day being flustered by that. _Of course_ that had to be the day that he had a thesis meeting with his advisor after his night class. The one day he was supposed to be on point and he spent most of the day fantasizing about his ex-boyfriend. All because of a random, flirty text.

When he finally got to his car he checked his phone and saw several texts from Meg. Apparently Dean got let out early from his bartending job and set about cleaning the entire house; he was driving Meg crazy in the process and she left house for Ash’s place. Castiel thought about avoiding the house but the idea of a hot shower after a long day was too appealing.

Castiel arrived home and was hit with the smell of lemon and bleach. Meg wasn't kidding about the cleaning Dean had been up to. Castiel wandered to his bedroom and found Dean on a ladder cleaning the blades of his ceiling fan. Dean looked embarrassed as he saw Castiel, “Sorry man, I was pretty amped up and thought I'd work it off during my shift tonight but that new place opened and everyone's there so the bar cut two of us for the night. I thought I'd at least get something done with the energy.”

Castiel held up a hand to indicate that Dean's explanation was sufficient. He smiled at Dean, “Well, it looks great in here. Thank you.”

Castiel ignored how much his heart swelled when Dean smiled from his praise. ( _Everything_ about Dean made Castiel’s heart hurt at this point.) Dean interrupted his train of thought, “I didn't eat dinner yet. Do you want me to make you something too?”

Castiel smiled wider, “That would be fantastic. I ate before class but I'm starving now.” He placed his briefcase on his desk and took off his suit jacket. “I'm just going to take a shower then I'll meet you downstairs.”

Dean immediately responded, “Fine, I'll leave, but I’d really rather join you.” He winked as he hopped off the ladder and collapsed it to move out of the room.

Castiel hated himself for how his knees almost buckled from that. Stupid, sexy Dean… Castiel jerked off in the shower in an attempt to clear his head. When he arrived downstairs Dean was diligently working over the stove with a glass of white wine on the counter, Castiel realized his bathtime interlude had only made him more horny. Castiel noticed that Dean had fried some chicken and was working on some sort of sauce. He asked Dean a question to announce himself and break the silence. “That smells great. What are you making?”

Dean beamed at him. “It's ‘lemon chicken’... not chicken francaise, but I guess that's the closest comparison. It's my mom's recipe. I saw that you had white wine in the fridge and thought I'd run with it.”

Castiel took a sip from Dean's glass. “Can I do anything to help?”

Dean suggested, “If you want to grab a baking dish, it's got to go in the oven for 40 minutes.”

Castiel grabbed the glass pan from the cabinet and brought it to Dean. He placed the chicken in it and Dean took it from him to pour the sauce over it. Dean grabbed the foil from the drawer next to the stove, covered the dish, placed it in the oven, and set the timer. Castiel took another sip from Dean's glass and Dean joked, “There's better ways to swap spit with me, you know.” Castiel blushed profusely and handed the glass over. Dean backtracked, “Sorry. You can keep drinking it if you want.” Dean started to crowd Castiel’s space and smirked, “Or we could make out for forty minutes and eat when it's ready…”

Castiel tried not to let his eagerness show, biting his own lip and giving Dean his best ‘fuck me’ eyes. Dean took that as an invitation to plunder Castiel’s mouth with a sloppy kiss. The deeper Dean took it, the more Castiel clung to him. Castiel could get lost in those plush lips and expert tongue. He knew Dean was going for everything that made him whimper and gasp.

It escalated quickly. By the time Castiel thought about it, he was already dry humping Dean's leg. Dean pulled back first, “I'm sorry, Cas.”

Castiel could have stabbed him in that moment for delaying the inevitable. “Don't say that, Dean.”

Dean laughed, “Oh, I'm not sorry for getting you all hot and bothered.” He ground his hips into Castiel’s for emphasis. “I'm sorry for being stupid.” Dean placed a chaste kiss on Castiel’s lips. “I'm sorry for freaking out and breaking up with you, because I hit the jackpot with you.” Dean pulled Castiel into a searing kiss, hoping that his actions conveyed what he felt. Castiel felt swept away by the tidal wave that was Dean Winchester. Castiel begrudgingly separated his body from Dean’s when the oven timer sounded.

Castiel hated to move away, but he grabbed utensils and plates as Dean fussed over the food. It was one of the best meals of Castiel’s life. He told Dean as much, as Dean deflected and tried to hide his pride from hearing it. Dean shyly approached him after they finished eating and shoved a piece of paper into Castiel’s hand. Castiel looked at him confused. Dean squeezed his hand, “You told me that if I got back together with you it would be all in. I'm not great with words-- saying them out loud, anyway. So I wrote it down. You don't have to read it if you don't want to.” Castiel went to open the paper and Dean stopped him, mock-aghast. “Jeez, not in front of me!”

Castiel laughed and put the paper in his pocket. He helped Dean clean up and went to bed. Right before turning in he fished the paper out of his pocket. Dean's note was simple and to the point: ‘ _Cas, You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I think I'm in love with you. I know that I messed up but if you’ll take me back I'd be the luckiest guy in the world._ ’ Castiel didn't have to think twice. He placed the paper down and strode over to Dean's door. Dean opened the door and Castiel pulled him into a clumsy kiss. Castiel pulled away whispering, “I'm all in if you are.”

Dean grinned like a fool, “Absolutely.”

Dean pulled Castiel to his bed. They spent the rest of the night making out like teenagers. It took some convincing, but Dean got Castiel to spend the night in his bed. Dean wasn't sure about a lot of things but he was certain that feeling Castiel asleep in his arms felt like home.


	8. Chapter 8

It didn't take long for them to fall into a groove once they were back together. Dean pushed outside his comfort zone and became bolder with Castiel behind closed doors. He hadn't given Castiel a blowjob yet but he was working up to it. Castiel, true to form, was endlessly patient with him. Frankly, it was nice to have a slow buildup. Castiel enjoyed their make out sessions and the occasional opportunity to jerk off together.

Castiel decided to take the reins one night while they were kissing in Castiel’s bed. He pushed Dean firmly onto the mattress, and pulled Dean's boxers down, teasing his erect cock with his tongue. He rubbed a hand up Dean's stomach as Dean arched into the sensation. Castiel rolled Dean's balls with his other hand, occasionally teasing over Dean's hole, eliciting a particularly lovely noise from Dean when he did. Castiel loved that Dean was tactile and a little bit submissive in bed. He pulled all the dirty tricks he knew to make Dean come swiftly.

Castiel was fairly comfortable sprawled between Dean's legs and opted to stay there afterwards. He let his head rest against Dean's hip and curled up to stay on the bed. Dean ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair while Castiel traced circles on Dean's belly and legs. That was when Castiel felt a random lump. Castiel pulled back with a concerned look. Dean didn't process Castiel’s question until he asked a second time, “Is this normal for you?”

“What?”

Castiel grabbed Dean's hand and pressed it to his groin. Castiel felt a hard lump there. “I'm not imagining things, right?”

Dean snapped defensively, “Whatever, weirdo. Can you go back to what you were doing?”

“Dean, I'm serious.”

Dean huffed, “Fine. No, I haven't noticed it before. It's probably nothing.” Castiel moved off the bed and started dressing. Dean made an incredulous noise, “Are you serious? You're kicking me out of bed for that!”

Castiel put a hand up, “I just need some air. It's nothing you did, Dean.” Castiel left the room.

Dean was stunned. Dean eventually put his own clothes on and went to the kitchen to find something to eat. He ran into Meg on his way to the fridge. She laughed, “Guess my attempt to sneak in failed.”

Dean smirked, “Good night?”

Meg shrugged, “Marginal. How about you?”

Dean sighed, “It was going great until Cas said something about needing some air.”

Meg pointed to the back door. “He's out there. Are you guys having a fight?”

Dean shrugged, “If we are, I don't know what it's about…”

Meg and Dean parted ways with their respective leftovers. Dean decided to bite the bullet and attempted to join Castiel. Castiel was tense as Dean sat next to him on the patio. Castiel noticed him and gripped Dean's hand tightly. Dean tentatively asked, “Are you okay? You're really freaking me out right now.”

Castiel looked distant. “Dean, promise me that you'll go get that checked by a doctor.”

Dean felt confused, “It's probably nothing. I don't have insurance so why go through the hassle?”

Castiel snapped, “I'm serious, Dean!”

Dean snapped back defensively, “You're scaring me. What the hell could it possibly be?”

Castiel's expression changed. Dean could tell he was mulling something over that didn't have anything to do with him. “I'm not a doctor but it could be something. I'll go with you if you're worried about being bored.”

Dean joked, “Oh, it's never boring at the clinic.”

“So you'll go?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure, if it'll shut you up about it and get you back in bed.”

* * *

Dean convinced Castiel to call out of work to go with him the next day. It was a Thursday; Dean sincerely hoped that would translate to a shorter wait-- he knew better than to go on a weekend. He groaned when he saw the waiting room was packed. He signed in at the front desk and sat down next to Castiel. Dean griped, “It'll be at least two hours. I don't have an appointment, I’m not pregnant, I’m not bleeding, I’m not puking, and everything is still attached to my body.”

Castiel tried not to stare at anyone, but Dean hadn’t been kidding about the place being a shit show. Dean diligently filled out the mountain of paperwork required by the front desk. The couple closest to them was bickering; the woman looked immensely pregnant. Another man was across from him with a nosebleed, although Castiel was not convinced it wasn't a cocaine-induced nosebleed. Dean joked, “Certainly not the trip to the doctor that you're used to.”

Castiel admitted, “No.”

Three hours and multiple people bitching out the receptionist behind the desk later, Castiel started to understand why Dean thought seeing a doctor was pointless. Dean joked, “Having fun yet?” Castiel was horrified and angered by all of this. If their roles were reversed, Castiel could have gotten an appointment with his doctor within hours by calling ahead and spent fewer than twenty minutes in the office. Dean was called in almost four hours after they arrived. The place seemed clean but the staff was clearly overworked. The nurse barely made conversation as she took Dean's vitals. She told them a nurse practitioner would be in shortly.

‘Shortly’ turned out to be another forty minutes; Castiel was ready to lose it. Dean was bored but assured him it was actually a relatively fast trip for him. Something about that made Castiel’s blood boil. His train of thought was interrupted when the nurse came in. “Which one of you is Dean Winchester?” Dean raised his hand jokingly. “And do you want him here during your exam?”

Dean shrugged, “Nothing he hasn't already seen.”

If the nurse found that amusing, he didn't indicate it. “What brings you in today?”

Dean squirmed on the paper-covered table. “He found this lump and made me come here to get it checked out.”

The nurse flipped through Dean's paperwork. “You seem to have a low-grade fever… says here the lump is in your groin area. Do you have a family history of cancer? Leukemia or Lymphoma specifically?”

Dean had to pause. Did he even know the family history outside of his parents and brother? “What? No. I don't think so…”

Castiel didn't let his face indicate that the casual mention of cancer was exactly what had freaked him out so badly. The nurse continued, “Cancer is the worst case scenario. It is most likely an infection or lipoma.” He finally looked at Dean. “We should start with blood work. The kind I'd prefer to run is $350 but if that's too much we can get part of the information from the $275 panel.”

Dean was stunned and didn't follow most of it. He understood the dollars thing though, “I… I can't afford that.”

The nurse flipped through his paperwork. “Unfortunately, your income is too high for our charity care program but we can send someone in to give you payment plan options.”

Castiel interjected, “Regardless of what the blood tests say, is there anything that would be in the results that would change in two weeks?”

He shrugged, “No. If Mr. Winchester wants to wait for payday to get this done, it would be routine. Most of our patients do that.”

Castiel looked like he was calculating. “What would your notes in his chart say? Something to the effect of ‘tests recommended’ with no diagnosis?”

Dean knew Castiel was up to something so he said stayed silent. The nurse stated, “Yes. His symptoms are too vague for a diagnosis so I'd only note that he required follow up tests.”

Castiel looked at Dean, softening his tone, “Are you okay with putting that off for today?” Castiel was definitely several moves ahead of the situation and Dean knew it.

Dean gave a small nod, “Yeah.”

The nurse shook his hand, “Just don't put it off too long. If it's an infection, it needs to be treated. If it's something worse, delaying a diagnosis doesn't make it go away.”

Dean left with Castiel and was already in the car when Castiel looked around to see if they were alone. Castiel spoke confidently, “Dean, do you trust me?”

Dean was still confused, “Of course.”

Castiel looked serious, “How do you feel about running a scam on a health insurance company?”

Dean stared at him. He’d heard the question; it was just completely out of character for Castiel. Once it sank in, Dean burst out laughing. “Cas… that might be the sexiest thing you have ever said to me.”

Castiel was annoyed, “This is serious, Dean.”

Dean stopped laughing, “Do you even have the first clue how to scam them? Because I don't.”

Castiel cleared his throat, “My company benefits--”

Dean interrupted, “Yeah, what about them? Last time I checked, I ain't qualified to work for your company.”

Castiel tempered himself before continuing, “I'm not talking about getting you a job! The company had to make some policy changes a while back with the civil unions thing in Vermont and gay marriage in Massachusetts. We had this hour-long, studiously-politically-correct training on it because they wanted everyone to know about the benefits extending to same sex couples.”

“I don't follow…”

Castiel continued, “We can get fake married to get you access to my insurance. I'd just have to do some paperwork at HR.”

Dean laughed, “Wait a minute. You do some paperwork and suddenly I'm covered? Just like that? It seems too easy, Cas.”

Castiel joked, “It bothers you that it's too easy?”

Dean raised an eyebrow suggestively, “You know I like it hard.” He groped Castiel over his jeans for emphasis.

Castiel brushed him off, “All we need is a shared bank account and proof of cohabitation. You know, because it's not ‘legal’ to get married here. Even if this thing you have going on is the worst case scenario, you won't go broke because you'll be covered.”

Dean tried not to think about the possibilities. “You're all in for me. Don't take this the wrong way but what's in it for you?” Castiel turned away and refused to answer. Dean was not letting it drop, “Cas, what's in it for you?”

Castiel chose his words carefully, “My mother died from Hodgkin's Lymphoma. So if the worst case is what you have… I guess I would be doing right by her memory. She had access to the best care. You should too.”

Dean never knew that. “I had no idea, Cas…”

Castiel looked out the window, “That's on me. I don't like bringing it up. You wouldn't know unless I told you.”

Dean drove back to the house in relative silence. He broke it with a question, “Say I'm on board with this. How would we even go about it?”

Castiel shrugged, “I have to do some research. It should only take me a day or two. My family will have you murdered if I don't make you sign a prenuptial agreement--” Dean laughed. Castiel gave him another weird look, “I'm not joking. Gabriel’s ex- took him to the cleaners in their divorce. They won't risk that again.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Jeez, you're a cynical bunch. I'll sign whatever you want.”

Castiel thought for a moment, “It has to look really convincing. I don't think anyone else knows about our trip today. It can't look like we're pulling a fast one.”

Dean tried not to be offended, “It should look convincing. We are a real couple after all--”

Castiel interjected, “A real couple that is pretty ‘go with the flow’ and relaxed about things. Why would we suddenly change it? That's the part I get stuck on.”

Dean joked, “Can't we just tell people that you gave me the best blowjob of my life and I proposed to you on the spot?”

Castiel made a haughty face, “That's crass.”

Dean smirked, “I don't hear you coming up with any better ideas.”

Castiel glared. He continued, “Your family should probably know. I mean, I don't want to mislead them.”

Dean gave him an inquisitive look, “What about your family?”

“Fuck them.” Castiel didn’t have to spare a second’s thought on what those vipers were going to think about his life decisions.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel groaned before answering his phone five days later in the evening. Dean could hear the angry _‘What the fuck, Castiel!’_ from the other side of the room. Castiel rolled his eyes and responded sarcastically, “Hello, to you too, Michael.”

Dean was braced for this one. They had agreed to move forward with the plan and got the initial ball rolling with a joint bank account that now held a whopping fifty dollars. Castiel had called the family’s attorney for a prenuptial agreement that would cover everything his family was concerned about-- ‘The Novak Standard,’ Castiel had joked in a follow up email. The problem was that the lawyer worked in the same office as Castiel’s cousins. Those cousins were bound to ‘happen upon’ the information that Castiel was secretly getting married. Castiel was sort of planning it that way on purpose because he could be a bastard when he felt like it; he was expecting the legal paperwork at his office the next day

Dean was stuck listening to one side of the conversation.

Castiel was going from mad to livid, “It's not a secret that I dated men… are you serious? I was in a relationship for months with another guy before I was with him… You'd know if you asked!... Yeah, my roommate Dean, why?” Dean had never seen Castiel as angry as he was after what he heard next. “ _He did what?!_... NO! First off I already knew what you just told me. Second, why the fuck is Nick sending someone to investigate people in my life?... _Screw. You.”_ Castiel slammed his phone down hard enough that Dean was sure it was going to crack. Dean was frozen in place.

Castiel was _shaking_. Dean decided it was better to just let him make the first move. Castiel spoke after composing himself. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I believe I told you that my family is both insane and infuriating.”

“So.. what exactly happened to get you so fired up?” Dean had seen Castiel vent frustration but never blow up at someone quite like _that_.

Castiel closed his eyes and Dean recognized it as the ‘count backward from 100’ thing that he did when he was particularly stressed out. He tried to control his voice when he finally spoke. “They found out that I was planning on getting married. This part I somewhat expected, given the law firm of the attorney I asked to do the prenuptial paperwork… what I did not expect was for my cousins to hire someone to go digging into your past. Based on Michael’s tone, he seems to think they had something “good” but I refused to listen and hung up on him.”

This news had Dean’s brain going a mile a minute. “Look, Cas, I know they really piss you off but we should probably talk about the not-so-pretty parts of my life before you met me. I know I tend to gloss over a lot of it but you should hear it from me.”

Castiel gave him a suspicious look. “Indeed. It’s better that I hear it from you anyway.”

Shit. _Where would he even start?_ Dean raked his hands over his face then gestured toward the living room. “Can we at least sit down?”

Castiel was tentative, but complied with the request. Dean made it a point to sit on the love seat when Castiel sat on the couch. Dean was fairly sure this was not a conversation Castiel wanted to have in close quarters.

“I guess I should start at the beginning. I told you my mom died when I was four.”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, in a house fire. It sounded very tragic. That is why I never pressed you for details.”

Dean doesn’t try to mask his disgust. “When I got older I was able to talk to people involved in the investigation. The fire was a complete accident that started from a gas leak. That’s not what my dad thought, though.”

“He suspected foul play?”

Dean laughed bitterly. “Demons.”

Castiel stared at him for a long moment. “What do you mean, demons?”

“Dad totally snapped after my mom died. He was convinced that he saw a ‘yellow-eyed demon’ kill her and that he had to hunt it down.” Dean looked out the window because he couldn’t take the look that Castiel may have had on his face. He had this conversation before. Sometimes it was pity. Sometimes it was horror. At some point the other person would piece together that his batshit crazy dad could appear _just_ functional enough to pass for “normal” when required. “So we practically lived out of the car and shady motels. Bounced all over the place. We had a bunch of run-ins with Child Protective Services. Sammy didn’t care if we left Dad but they’d always try to separate us. He would freak out at that possibility. I got really good at pretending Dad was around whenever they would check on us. It…” He exhaled. “It sucked.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Dean.” _There it was. The pity._

“We mostly stayed together. Except when I fucked up and got sent away. I fucked up more than a few times. Dad taught us how to hustle and I got cocky. I got arrested but managed to avoid jail. By the third or fourth arrest, Sammy started following in my footsteps.” Dean laughed bitterly.

“Sammy got arrested on the same night, doing the same damn thing I was doing on the other side of town. I mean, fake IDs and hustling money out of drunk people shouldn’t be a crime anyway. It’s not like I was charging for hand jobs or something. Dad took it as a wakeup call.

“Eventually he got help. Took a while to get his meds right but he finally settled us down back in Kansas. At that point Sammy was a freaking superstar student and I was dropping out to get my GED. He got a full ride to Stanford, Dad took it day-by-day, and I just floundered. Still am. It’s why Bobby is always on my ass to apply myself and shit.

“Got a little bit easier after I turned 19. I got a gig bartending. Cash wasn’t as good as hustling but it showed I was attempting to be an upstanding citizen, at least. I know I’m still kinda glossing over it. I can give you the blood and guts version but you might want a drink or two for that edition.”

With his head still turned to face the window, Dean hadn’t seen Castiel move from the couch to his side. Dean felt a gentle hand on his arm. It startled him, but he refused to look at Castiel. Castiel’s other hand brushed Dean’s jaw. He tipped his head toward Castiel and felt a soft kiss pressed to his forehead. When Dean finally opened his eyes he wasn’t prepared for Castiel to be looking at him with sadness.

Castiel pressed their foreheads together and spoke, barely above a whisper. “I know you. I know you won’t believe it but you’re a good man, Dean Winchester.” That certainly wasn’t the reaction Dean assumed he’d have. Castiel pulled back and smiled. “I think I’ll keep you. If you will allow it.”

Dean let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He chuckled and felt the tension leaving his body. “You’re a weird guy for wanting to keep me, but, whatever. I got the good end of this deal.”

* * *

Several days later, Dean happened to be closest to the front door when the rhythmic knocking caught his attention. Castiel was out. Meg hadn’t mentioned expecting anyone. Maybe it was a package delivery. They delivered on Saturdays sometimes.

Dean swung the door open and immediately recognized the guy on the other side from pictures. “Hey kiddo! I’ve got an urgent special delivery for Mr. Castiel J. Novak. Is he home?” He didn’t even wait for an invitation to push past Dean; he waltzed into the living room like he owned the place.

The guy narrowly escaped getting ripped a new one thanks to Meg’s perfect timing. She appeared at the top of the stairs. “Gabriel, Castiel didn’t mention that you would be visiting.” She sounded charming but Dean knew there was well-masked annoyance in her tone, a side of her he recognized from living in the same place over time.

“Surprise visit on my part. Imagine my surprise when I heard our baby Cas was getting married to one…” obnoxiously, he opened his jacket and yanked a sheaf of papers from the inside lapel pocket, “… uhh, Mr. Dean Winchester?” He lowered the papers theatrically and looked at Dean. “Better be you. Otherwise there’s some mysterious other person and I am wasting all my good material.” Dean reached for the papers in his hand and Gabriel yanked them out of his reach. “Excuse me, gold digger. Castiel is the one that needs to see these first.”

“ _Gold digger?!”_ Dean was pissed off from being insulted at all, but that was _uncalled for_. Meg snickering at the burn didn’t help matters.

“Yes, gold digger. Don’t take it personally.”

Dean managed to not stab, strangle, or shoot Gabriel in the few hours that he was in the house before Castiel arrived home. Castiel was surprised when he saw his cousin sprawled out on the couch. He retreated to his bedroom to review the paperwork that Gabriel bought. Dean tried not to be offended at the sequence of events.

He was pulled from his simmering rage to the sound of yet another knock at the door. Dean silently begged the universe for mercy as he approached it. _Please don’t be more of the Novak clan. Please a date for Meg or pizza or a sales person._ He let out a heavy sigh before opening the door. “Sammy?”

“Dean!” It had been a while since Dean had seen his brother. The kid had filled out and had clearly carved out sufficient time in his schedule to get a tan. He squeezed Dean a lot more forcefully than Dean remembered. Later, he’d absolutely deny having had the air forced out of his lungs.

It took a few seconds to suck oxygen back into his body, but Dean thought he hid it well. “What are you doing here?”

The cocky bastard that took over his couch managed to pipe up. “Consider it a wedding present from yours truly.”

“Wait… what?” Dean must have heard that wrong.

Sam laughed in his face. “Well you called me, and told me you were getting married. Then maybe four hours later when I was still looking at flights Gabriel called me. Cas gave him my number. He said–”

“I said ‘my cousin is crazy for him and no one should get married without their Best Man.’” Gabriel then stage whispered, “That’s your brother.” He popped up off the couch and slapped Dean on the back before draping an arm around him. “Seriously, it’s bad luck to get married without a Best Man. Take it from a guy who has been there and back. Least I could do is pay for your college-student-brother’s flight. Consider this my wedding present to you and the last nice thing I’ll ever do for you.”

Dean was hard pressed to think of a time in his life where he was less prepared for a sudden turn of good fortune.


	10. Chapter 10

The ‘wedding’ turned out to be a simple filling out of paperwork. Not that Dean ever had the flowers and rainbows romantic fantasy of a wedding—but he hadn’t thought it would be comparable to a trip to renew his driver’s license.

Within the week all visitors were out of the house, Castiel had filled out the paperwork with his company to get Dean covered by his health insurance, and had already booked several appointments for Dean to go to. Dean joked, as he filled out page seven of thirteen of paperwork that they had a sucky idea of what a honeymoon should be. Part of him wanted to go away and do the whole romantic getaway thing but the other part of him knew that this was probably something that should be discussed with Castiel. Did they even have the same idea of what they were doing?

Dean was sent for a battery of tests. He reminded himself that he didn't need to panic about the flood of bills that he would receive afterwards. Luckily he had Castiel with him for all of the tests so he could at least pretend he wasn't afraid of needles in general, much less what the results might indicate. Dean felt like a human pincushion, when all was said and done. It would be at least a week before the first round of result would be ready, but the doctors assured Dean that they would call right away if there was anything abnormal in his results.

Castiel sat by his side the entire time like a worried mother hen. Dean could get used to that. A reassuring hand squeeze while he freaked about getting blood drawn was a new thing for him. He had no point of reference for having someone who could reliably be there for _him_. His father was a wreck while he and Sam were growing up; his little brother would always be a kid with his nose in a book. Neither would ever get Dean to let his guard down the way Castiel seemed to. More and more often, he found himself smiling at Castiel when he wasn’t looking.

* * *

Dean hated these appointments. Thank God Castiel was there to be a sounding board and sanity check as he got himself spun up. Dean didn’t understand why the office needed him to strip down to his underwear and put on a thin, scratchy hospital gown. He nervously picked at the edge of the paper on the exam table in an attempt to distract from the coldness of the room.

“Mr. Winchester, we’ve kept you in suspense long enough!” The boisterous male doctor took Dean off guard every time he spoke. He had a talent for bursting into the room and _spooking_ Dean. The doctor flipped through Dean’s chart and sat down. “Good news is that you’re a relatively healthy guy– put a pin in that because I’ll get back to it. Bad news is you have what I suspected: a lipoma.”

“Li-what?” Dean wasn’t sure what to make of the doctor’s upbeat tone. He’d said “lymphoma” at a previous appointment, and Dean wanted to make sure he’d heard the doctor correctly.

“Better news: lipoma is most definitely not cancer. It’s a harmless – benign – tumor comprised of fatty cells or tissue. Generally, we would recommend putting you under a general anesthetic for one that’s the size of yours in that location. Your skin biopsy ruled out any rare cancerous form of it. Which brings me to the whole ‘relatively healthy’ part about you…”

Dean registered some of the lecture the doctor was giving about his elevated liver enzymes and higher-than-normal cholesterol levels. His brain kept going around the loop of ‘not cancer’… by this point in life he was used to the universe screwing him over. Things did not work out okay for Dean Winchester. Yet here he was, dodging a huge bullet. He had done his own research. His brain was jarred from its loop of questions when Castiel stated his name firmly like it wasn’t the first time he’d had to say it.

Dean looked at Castiel and Castiel’s annoyed expression immediately relaxed. “It isn’t pressing to get surgery for this but putting it off could let it get bigger. What is your schedule like? Can you take a few days off or do you need to delay it for a few months?”

“Oh, I can do it now. I’ve got days off that I can take.”

The doctor smiled and stood up. “Great! Speak to the front desk about scheduling it. I’ll have prescriptions for some follow up tests on those other high numbers at the desk before you get there. Get dressed, and congrats, Mr. Winchester. I wish I could be giving good news more often.” He extended his hand and Dean shook it. His brain still hadn’t caught up with the proceedings.

He’d be back on his feet in no time.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean had the procedure on a Thursday and was back at work in the shop by Monday. Feeling the dull throb in his leg made his week feel like it crawled along. He was endlessly relieved when the workweek finally ended. Fridays were nothing if not consistent for Dean; come off the late-night Thursday bartending shift and work all day at the garage. It was nearly always his late day and he always felt like he had his ass kicked when he finally dragged himself through the front door of the house. He typically wanted nothing more than to face-plant into his bed and make up for the sleep he didn’t get on Thursday night. The first priority was scrubbing off the grunge. He figured ‘exhausting’ and ‘dried on layers of sweat’ were the ‘benefits’ of manual labor.

Tonight was not a typical Friday. Instead of silence and an empty house, Dean was greeted by an enthusiastic, and very drunk, Castiel. “Dean! You’re home!” He didn’t even try to not slur his words.

“Cas?” Castiel trying to kiss him interrupted Dean’s thoughts. It ended up as more of a slobbery brush against his cheek. Dean attempted to contain him by hugging him. “What has you partying so hard?”

Castiel broke away and held out his arms. “I’m celebrating… Dean Winchester, you are looking at Talbot’s youngest branch manager ever!”

Dean didn’t know a lot about Castiel’s work but he damn well knew what this meant. “You got a promotion. That’s awesome!” Castiel lit up so much at that that Dean couldn’t help but grin like a fool right back at him.

“Not just a promotion – a _huge_ promotion! I’m celebrating. We’re celebrating. We’re going out.” He grabbed Dean’s hand and made for the door.

“Whoa, buddy. No. We are not going out. You’re already drunk and I’m exhausted.” Castiel frowned at him. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, we can go out. Whatever you want.”

“Anything I want?”

Shit. Dean was already regretting this. “Within reason, yeah, anything you want.” Dean thought for sure that was going to mean donning a monkey suit and eating at some overpriced joint.

“And I can pick your clothes?”

_Yep. Fancy restaurant for sure._ “Depends on what you want me to wear…” Just because the guy was drunk didn’t give him a pass against having his balls busted. The joke was on him. Dean still only owned one suit.

“Great! We’re going to Paradise. I’ll pick your outfit now.” Castiel stumbled to the stairs as Dean stood processing that information. Paradise as in the gay nightclub, Paradise? Surely he didn’t mean… “Cas?” Dean ran up the stairs behind him.

He found Castiel sitting on the floor, rummaging through his jeans in the bottom drawer of his dresser. “Where are the really tight ones that leave nothing to the imagination? I want you to wear those.”

“Slow your roll, Cas. You want to celebrate by going to a gay bar?”

Castiel tilted his head and stared at Dean. “I want to dance and drink and show you off. Is that a problem?”

“Show me off?” _What, was he some trophy wife, now?_

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean’s tone. “Yes, show you off. You’re hot. I want everyone to be jealous that I have you and they don’t.”

Turning point: big fight about this or walk away. Those were Dean’s only choices. Dean let out a heavy sigh. “Can we talk about this in the morning when you sober up?”

Castiel pouted. “Fine.”

Dean hated seeing him like that. “Hey, can you grab me some flannel pants while you’re down there? I need to shower and collapse.”

“Can I watch?” Somehow Castiel made it sound like an innocent request until Dean actually looked at him. There was absolutely _nothing_ innocent about that question.

“You want to watch me take a shower?” Castiel nodded, or at least gave something resembling a nod. “Will that get you off of my bedroom floor?” Dean shot him a wide grin in case he was too drunk to get the sarcasm.

“Yes. It would most certainly get me to get off your bedroom floor.” Castiel dug through Dean’s drawer and produced a blue-and-green-checkered pair of flannel pants.

Dean laughed at his enthusiasm. He crouched down to help Castiel off the ground and to his feet. Castiel attempted to pull him into a kiss and Dean dodged. “Not a come-on. I really am going to take a shower.” He snagged the pants from Castiel and started to leave the room. He stopped just shy of the door and looked over his shoulder. “I _guess_ you can watch, if you want.”

Dean wasn’t exactly sure how this whole thing was going to work. The bathroom had a shower curtain, not glass doors, so he wasn’t quite grasping how Castiel was going to watch him. Dean lowered the toilet lid and turned to Castiel. “Park your ass here. I don’t need to hear you trip and fall while I’m in there.”

Castiel appeared to consider arguing before thinking better of it. He sat down and leaned back. His eyes were locked on Dean. They stared at each other long enough for it to become awkward. “If you are not going to get on with it, I’ll just go back to drinking by myself.”

“That’s how it is, huh?” Dean raised an eyebrow as he reached for the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head and threw it in Castiel’s face. By the time Castiel got out from under it, Dean had the water started and was dropping his jeans. Castiel’s breath hitched and Dean couldn’t help his cocky smirk. “What? Ratty old gray boxers do it for you?”

“ _You_ do it for me.” Castiel doesn’t hesitate. That response was a huge backfire for Dean’s plan. He wasn’t expecting a coherent response, much less a compliment. He started blushing and opted to drop his boxers and step in the shower instead of formulating a witty comeback. The hard spray did nothing to clear the cobwebs that Castiel’s compliment had put in place.

Dean found himself smiling at the tiled wall. Castiel was fond of him. He didn’t think he deserved Castiel but the guy kept coming back to him… well, they were roommates but still. Dean made quick work of soaping up and rinsing off. The thought to further tease Castiel and put on a show hadn’t occurred to him until after he turned the water off. He made a mental note to do that at a later date.

He pulled back the curtain, and Castiel was on him. He had barely made contact with the bathmat outside the tub when Castiel crowded him against the wall and kissed him-- what he lacked in finesse he made up in enthusiasm. Once the feeling of Castiel’s clothes against his wet naked skin registered, Dean was a goner. He practically melted against the wall as Castiel plundered his mouth.

Castiel tasted like vodka and spices. Dean felt the wandering hands on his body settle on his nipple and his hip. He wanted this more than anything… but not like this. He knew he’d hate himself for it but he wrenched his face away from Castiel. “Same rules you put on me apply to you.”

He had to stop himself from laughing at the way he could almost hear Castiel processing this statement. “I don’t understand…”

Dean pushed away from the wall and snagged a towel to start drying himself. “When we got together you said you wouldn’t want me to be too drunk to remember the first time you rocked my world. I think the same applies to you. I’ve got plans to help celebrate…”

Several seconds passed before the implication registered with Castiel. “ _Oh._ ” His eyebrows shot up. He was on board with that idea.

Dean grinned at him. “We’ll talk in the morning. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” Castiel seemed to take the postponement well enough. He swayed a little as he stumbled out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

Dean contemplated taking an ice cold shower to recover.

* * *

Somehow Castiel always managed to party like a rock star and never be worse for the wear the next day. Dean was starting to resent that shit as he sat at the end of the bar watching the scene in front of him.

They talked in the morning and Dean now felt like he knew what it was like being on the other side of the table in a business negotiation. He was already dressed, inside a gay bar, and downing his second drink when he realized that Castiel had gotten him to agree to every last thing as if Dean wanted to do it himself. He could feel the eyes on him and it was not giving him a comforting feeling. The music was terrible. He wasn’t a fan of this electronic stuff and he was pretty sure the bass in the speakers was making his stomach churn.

He was mid-sip when Castiel plastered himself to Dean’s side. “Dance with me.” He planted a kiss against Dean’s temple to sweeten the deal.

The demand forced Dean to pay closer attention to the music. Then he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Seriously? You want me to dance to this. This? It’s a bastardized version of a Bryan Adams song.”

“Since when have you cared about the sanctity of Bryan Adams?” Touché. Castiel always got right to the point and tonight was no different. Dean was still trying to muster a comeback when Castiel continued. “Come on. Dance with me. Just one song.”

One techno song could damn near be ten hours as far as Dean knew. Arguing with Castiel was pointless, though; he could entertain the idea. If he wasn’t feeling it, he’d raise a red flag and Castiel would back off. That was how they operated.

Dean couldn’t find a rhythm. He decided to let Castiel take the lead; thankfully, Castiel was already in a leading mood. He pulled Dean tight against him, slotting a leg between Dean’s and gyrating against him. Castiel weaved one hand behind Dean’s neck and the other around his waist. There was something in Castiel’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before. It took a minute to place it but Dean realized what it was: _possessiveness_. It should have pissed him off. Dean should have objected on the spot. Instead his traitorous sex drive took the opportunity to bookmark that trait as something he liked. Really, _really_ liked.

Castiel _had_ previously said he wanted to show Dean off. Who was he to deny the man?

He struggled to find the bass line of this music. Once he found it he was able to match Castiel’s dancing a little bit. He blushed when Castiel looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk… yep… Dean had no hopes of escaping, not that he was even remotely tempted.

He wasn’t ready to admit defeat, though. He was sincere about having plans for how to celebrate with Castiel. He used his best fighting moves and managed to step back, grab Castiel by the shoulders, turn Castiel around, and plaster his back against Dean’s torso with two strong hands. He noted happily that Castiel’s ass fit perfectly against his crotch. Unfortunately the power play had drawn attention, which meant that all eyes were on Dean. His confidence faltered. He wanted to be ‘that guy’ like Castiel was but he wasn’t there yet. Not in public anyway; not in the middle of the dance floor of a gay bar with music blasting.

He gave Castiel’s ear a light nip before leaning into him. “How about we get out of here?” Dean regained a little bit of his confidence when Castiel nearly tripped himself to drag Dean out of the bar in the general direction of the parking lot.

* * *

Miraculously, Dean got them home in one piece despite Castiel using every red light as an opportunity to paw at him. Part of him wanted to pull over and take Castiel apart. The stronger part of him wanted to make Castiel wait just a little bit longer.

Both of them were just buzzed enough to be as bold as they really wanted to be with each other. After they got through the front door, Castiel almost knocked Dean down on the stairs while they made out. It took some convincing, and sheer willpower but they managed to get up the stairs. They crashed into Dean’s room because there was no way they were making it to Castiel’s room at the end of the hallway.

They fell into bed together easily and kissing Castiel was Dean’s favorite drug. Dean made the first move to escalate matters by yanking Castiel’s shirt over his head. Castiel had always been a fair play guy; he returned the favor by discarding Dean’s shirt for him. Castiel dropped back and sat on his knees next to Dean while he firmly grabbed Dean’s belt. “Is this okay?”

Rather than answer, Dean moved his hands to Castiel’s belt and popped it open, and followed by tearing open the fly of his jeans. Castiel took that as a green light to move ahead because damned if he hadn’t waited long enough for this moment.

Castiel jumped off the bed to toe his shoes off. Dean followed suit, hastily unlacing his boots to the point that he could yank them off his boots and toss them across the room. Castiel shot Dean a dark look before dropping his jeans and boxers at the same time and leaning back toward the bed. He placed his hand over Dean’s at the waistband of his jeans and waited. His eyes made contact with Dean’s; Dean knew he was waiting for permission. “Yes. Holy shit, yes, Cas.” He needed this. They both did.

Castiel haphazardly tossed the garments away and climbed onto the bed, straddling Dean as he did. Castiel paused just before kissing Dean again. “Are you sure about–”

That was enough talking, Dean needed to feel. He cut Castiel off with a kiss. When he came up for air, he finally answered. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Castiel ground his hips against Dean’s in response. Dean immediately concluded that he was the biggest idiot on the planet because that felt awesome. He must have said something out loud because Castiel was chuckling against his neck and continuing his movements with small circles. Dean was leaking in no time, spreading precome against his and Castiel’s stomachs as Castiel took charge.

I’ve been wanting to do this since that first night you walked into the master bedroom at Gabriel’s place… hell, I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you at the Roadhouse.” Castiel’s gravely voice vibrated against Dean’s body, killing what was left of Dean’s self-control.

“Cas!” Dean couldn’t muster much more of a response than that.

“And I still like the way you say my name.” Castiel went for it after that, snaking a hand between them, gripping both of their erections as well as he could and holding them against one another. Just when Dean thought it couldn’t get any better, it got damn near overwhelming. Dean wanted it to last but it was all too much. In any other circumstance, he would be embarrassed at how quickly Castiel got him off. He bit his lip and only let a small whimper escape when he came. He was about to apologize for coming too early when he felt Castiel come on top of him.

Castiel was courteous and rolled off to Dean’s side instead of collapsing on top of him. Dean panted and laughed a little as he said the first thing that came to mind: “Congratulations on your promotion, Mr. Novak-Winchester.” He meant it as a joke… but it sounded right once he said it out loud.

* * *

Six months later they found themselves on a weekend trip to a lakeside community with plenty of beer and pie to keep Dean happy. It was the only thing that could get Dean to agree to go learn about beekeeping with Castiel. It wasn’t too far away from their place and Castiel insisted on driving his car. Once again, what Castiel wanted, Castiel got.

Just because he always got his way didn’t mean Dean couldn’t give his bossy husband hell for it. “Cas, you know what would make you even sexier?” Dean leaned over the roof of the luxury sedan Castiel had recently leased.

“What’s that?” Castiel smiled at him as he opened his door to get in.

They both sat in the car and closed their doors before Dean continued. “If you bought a goddamn American car.”

“It’s a lease.” Castiel’s facial expression was torn between correcting him and being insulted.

“Who cares? You’re married to the hottest, most talented mechanic in town… and you take your automobile to the dealership for maintenance because it’s a lease!”

Castiel raised an eyebrow as he put the key in the ignition. “Perhaps I want your talented hands on me and not wasted on a piece of metal that the company pays for.”

_Damn it._ Dean had nothing to argue with that.

Dean’s silence was short-lived as Castiel put the key in the ignition and the radio kicked on. “Really? Again with this Ace of Base shit?”

“It’s The Real McCoy and you know it!”

“It’s not Redbone. There’s only one ‘Come and Get Your Love’ that I will recognize and this ain’t it.”

Castiel opted to turn up the volume and lip sync the song instead. Dean shook his head in half disgust and half embarrassment on Castiel’s behalf. He had a joke ready to go when Castiel took him off guard and pulled him into a quick kiss as the chorus started.

So maybe he could be down with the terrible dance music if it got Castiel in this kind of mood. _Not that he would ever admit it. God help him, he was all in with Castiel._ And he was perfectly fine with it. He could be down with all of it because he was happy.

That was how Dean realized it: in an overpriced European car, listening to music he hated, going to do some bizarre thing that Castiel wanted to do, and while Castiel was actively busting his balls. He was head over heels in love with that man and he was never letting him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive feedback are always appreciated! Thank you for reading.


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